Strikhedonia
by kbaycolt
Summary: In which Five jumps his family three months into the Apocalypse. Trapped in the place of his nightmares, he has to find a way to fix his mistake and endure the family bonding that ensues. This is surely hell. (Strikhedonia: The pleasure of being able to say "to hell with it!")
1. Don't ask if Five knows what he's doing

Oh, he's such a _fuck up_.

Five should've known it never would've been that easy. Stopping the end of the world was never easy.

So that's when it clicks for him.

The Apocalypse was always going to happen. Regardless of any damage he did to the timeline, Harold Jenkins would always be the fuse, and Vanya Hargreeves would always be the bomb. The moon would always explode and incinerate everyone on the planet.

But this timeline is different. He's here now, and he'll be damned if he's going to just let his siblings die without trying to save them.

Because that's what it's always been about, right?

Saving his family.

Even when they act like colossal dumbasses.

"... at least we're together," Luther is saying, "in the end."

Five whirls around, his thoughts spinning faster than they ever have. "This doesn't have to be the end."

In unison, Diego, Klaus, and Luther turn to look at him, each one in varying degrees of confusion.

"What?" Diego asks. "What are you saying, Five?"

"I think I have a way outta here," Five replies. "But you gotta trust me on this." A chorus of nos and I don't think sos greets him, but he doesn't let their blatant distrust deter him. "Then we might as well accept our fate, because in less than a minute we're gonna be vaporized."

"What's your idea, then?"

Five wonders how they ever did anything without him. "We use my ability to time travel. But this time, I'll take you with me." It's a risky endeavor. It might end with them spontaneously combusting, or scattered around the quantum realm in broken bits of consciousness, but it's better than rolling over and dying without a fight.

"You can do that?" Diego asks, and his hesitance is warranted.

"I don't know," Five admits. "I've never tried it before."

"What's the worst that can happen?"

Oh, boy. There's a whole list running through Five's head right now, but he opts for the snarkier, less serious one. "You're lookin' at it. A 58-year-old man inside a child's body, so there's that."

"Oh, what the hell, I'm in," Diego says.

"Yeah, whatever, I'm in," Klaus sighs.

"Me too," agrees Luther, and Five hates his easygoing tone like he didn't lock Vanya in a dark hole earlier that day. "Allison?" Still mute, her eyes wide with fear, Allison gives a shaky nod. Then Luther looks to Klaus. "What about Ben?"

A brief glance at thin air, and Klaus says, "great. Yeah, he's in."

"Okay, great," Five says. "Luther, grab Vanya." Everyone is quick to obey him.

"Wait. Should we be taking her?" Luther asks, even as he scoops Vanya up in his big arms. "I mean, if she's the cause of the Apocalypse. Isn't that like taking a bomb with us?"

"The Apocalypse will always happen," Five explains, weary of their constant, incessant questions about things larger than their understanding. Sometimes he wishes they could read minds, so they could just understand instantly without relying on words. "And Vanya will always be the cause unless we take her with us and fix her."

There's a long moment of pensive silence. Then everyone begins lacing their hands with each other, showing their trust in Five. Let's hope he doesn't let them down again.

They all gather in a tight circle, with Five gripping Allison's and Diego's hands. He takes in a deep breath. Only done this twice in his lifetime.

Five tilts his head upwards, gazing through the skyroof. Then he _pushes_.

The air above them ripples and begins crackling with blue electricity, casting a strange, wavering light over them. Five quite literally shoves through the folds of spacetime, reaching through to yank them forward. The pulsing, flickering mass of blue above them twitches and expands in size. Five fights to keep his grip on the timeline. It's like grabbing wet rubber, slippery and a dangerous thing to be dangling off a cliff while holding.

Gale-force winds pick up around them, nearly making him lose his concentration, but he steels his resolve. _I am not a slave to my powers_. A rippling blue sheet descends around them, encasing them in a bubble of quantum energy that he's barely bending to his will. This is much, much more difficult than before.

Allison shoots him a terrified look. Even Diego is wide-eyed and afraid.

"It's working!" Luther shouts, and Five resists the urge to actually snarl at him.

Klaus sways on his feet. Diego blinks rapidly, and Allison's hold on his hand slackens. No. No, no. He can't lose them to the quantum realm, not when they're this close.

"Hold on!" Five yells, tightening his grip on Allison and Diego. "It's going to get messy!"

The white-blue bubble shrinks around them, boxing them in. Five is accustomed to squeezing between the folds of space, but the others aren't. They'll all be experiencing the worst hangovers of their lives in a few moments, though.

Then the folds of time completely cover them, and Five yanks his family as far as he can into the unknown.


	2. Welcome to Hell

It's not dark. Klaus expected complete darkness, nestled in the loving arms of time, but it's actually a hazy sort of blue. Like Ben when Klaus randomly decides to throw items at him and watch his body light up blue.

He can almost hear Ben chiding him in that motherly tone.

But he can't hear anything. He can't really see either, and the feeling of tightness around him only serves to further his intense discomfort. He hates small spaces.

So, to be succinct:

Five's plan really fucking sucks.

But the suffocating feeling only lasts for a few moments, and a strange sensation hits him, almost like someone is shoving him roughly forward. The next thing he knows, his knees are digging into cracked pavement and something smells like it's burning.

Oh, and also, the headache. He knows what time travel is like, but this is worse. Five had described it pretty well, actually, "like a box of cotton's been shoved up your nose and into your brain." Except the cotton is on fire and his skin's on fire and everything is burning and crawling. He keeps his eyes squeezed tightly shut and ignores the very strong urge to empty his stomach contents.

"H-Holy shi-i-it," Klaus manages to choke out, his words punctuated with dry laughing or dry heaving, he can't decide.

There's a grunt of agreement to his left. Five, the little bugger? Diego? What's he supposed to work with when people just grunt vaguely?

"Holy shit," someone echoes. Probably Ben. Klaus still refuses to open his eyes.

"... Klaus?"

It takes him a minute to realize someone is calling his name. Their voice is barely audible over that fucking ringing in his ears, goddamn. It's comparable to listening to Luther talk, actually.

"Klaus."

"Nope," Klaus mutters. His fingers scrape against concrete. Where are they? He almost can't force himself to open his eyes, and when he does, the sight that greets him is a nightmarish one.

The world is on fire. Smoke ripples in the distance, and every building in view is nothing but smoldering rubble. The air tastes acrid and burns his eyes. The sun bears down over them, bright and hot against an ashen sky. The clouds are bleeding red and black.

"Damn" is all he can say.

"'Damn' is right," Ben says beside him, blinking in confusion and looking like the disoriented ghost boy Klaus knows him as. "Where are we?"

"Hell, obviously. Welcome to eternal damnation."

Ben tries to smack him, but his hand flickers blue and passes right through Klaus' shoulder.

Casting his gaze around, Klaus does a mental tally. Diego, crouching off to the side, currently puking his guts out. Luther still clutches Vanya in his arms, looking at their surroundings in numb shock. Allison is stumbling to her feet, slack-jawed.

Now, where's Five, the little genius?

Ah. There he is.

Five staggers to his feet, breathing heavily, his stare darting around. He almost looks afraid. But Five is never afraid.

"Five!" Klaus calls out. He pushes himself up and immediately falls again. "Five, please tell our deceased brother that we're in Hell. He seems to be in disbelief, so hopefully you can clear up some things."

Five doesn't respond to his joking. If anything, the terror in his expression worsens. Yikes. Klaus has never seen Five look like this, in all those many, terrible years he's known the self-righteous bastard. There's only been smug triumph, irritation, and hollow-eyed contemplation on Five's youthful features. Lucky. One of them gets to be young again, and of course it isn't Klaus.

Ben tries to smack him again. "That's not our biggest concern, Klaus. Something's wrong with him."

"Something's wrong with _me_," Klaus whines. "It's hot, and smoky, which doesn't bother you 'cause you're a goddamn ghost."

A loud huff and sigh later, and Ben flickers out of existence, leaving Klaus to deal with this shitty hellscape by himself.

"Damn you, Ben," Klaus growls.

"One of you idiots—" Five snaps suddenly, drawing everyone's attention to him, "—better catch me, or I'll fucking kill—"

And then he collapses.

Allison is quicker than any of them, darting forward and catching Five right before he hit the ground. She gently lowers him down, scanning him worriedly.

"Is he hurt?" Diego manages, finally getting over his rather dramatic retching fit.

Klaus doesn't really know why Diego expects an answer, because Allison obviously can't talk, but she shakes her head a bit anyway.

"Great!" Klaus exclaims, trying once more to stand and nearly toppling over again. "_Two_ unconscious siblings. One of which is the only person in this entire group that knows what the hell's going on. Yes, that is unfortunate," he adds to the empty space beside him. He's learned over the years that if he talks enough to himself, Ben shows up again. It's foolproof.

"We need to find shelter." That's the first thing Luther says, and it's harmless, but Klaus still wants to punch him in his scuzzy face.

"Yeah," Diego says. "Come on."

With Allison cradling Five and Luther with Vanya, their band of merry men sets off. Luther takes the lead, Diego not far behind, leaving Klaus to walk beside Allison, although every step makes nausea roil somewhere deep down. Allison seems to be experiencing something similar.

Klaus is actually glad they stay silent for most of the walk. It gives him time to think about things that sobriety demands he deal with.

"Sobriety's not demanding you," pipes up a familiar, god-awfully cheerful voice. "I am." Ben gives him a lopsided smile. Klaus sticks his tongue out.

"Why can't I control when you pop up?" Klaus complains, wanting to shove Ben but knowing he can't. "Seriously, why are you the only spirit I have literally no control over?"

"Cause I'm your bro," Ben says.

"You're a bitch."

Ben makes a noise of indignation.

Then Klaus almost slams into Diego's back. "Why are we stopping? Doesn't everyone want to keep on marching endlessly? 'Cause I was looking forward to that."

"Shut up," Luther says.

Klaus narrows his eyes. "You've got a lot of nerve, Luther."

"Both of you," Diego snaps. "This building looks semi-decent. We'll rest here until Five and/or Vanya wakes up."

With a quick scan of said building, Klaus can agree it looks semi-decent. The windows are all blown in, and one side is completely crumbled, but the fires are few and far between, and what is on fire can be extinguished pretty easily.

"This is a nightmare," Klaus groans, but he follows his family inside regardless.

* * *

It's never been unusual for Five to wake up in pain.

That sounds bad, but really, he's been in a state of internal agony for... basically all his life. The time travel hangover is just a given.

The ceiling is a weird, beige color that he hates. He can't look at anything else though, because just moving his eyes makes the iron spike in his head dig in deeper. His old shrapnel wound aches suddenly, along with another throbbing somewhere near it. Another bullet wound? Lucky him.

Five opens his mouth to curse or something, but his voice catches and suddenly he's coughing violently, causing both his skull-splitting headache to worsen and the apparently TWO shrapnel wounds to flare up.

"Whoa, Five, buddy, chill out."

_Klaus_. Of course it's Klaus. It couldn't have been Diego, or even goddamn Allison. Nope, it's the most idiotic of the bunch.

"You chill out," Five spits. It's a weak comeback, he'll admit. He's not exactly thinking straight, so just fucking cut him some slack.

"I am. Cool as an iceberg. You though, you're..." Then there's a cold hand on his forehead. Five jerks away from him with a snarl. "Pretty warm. You okay?"

"As well as one can be." Five starts to push himself up, but the spike in his head has other ideas. He falls back with a huff.

"I'm sure your little brain is buzzing with inquiries and such," Klaus says, and Five wants to tell him that his brain is buzzing with knives but Klaus barrels on, "but you should probably rest. After, of course, you tell us what the goddamn fuck you did back at the concert."

"Concert...?"

"You don't remember?" Now Klaus looks stricken, and Five can't fathom why.

"Where are we?"

"Five," Klaus says, and he sounds dead serious. Ha. Dead serious. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Hm, that's a good one. Some lady mistook him for a child. He forgets his response. It probably wasn't nice. Then the Handler pulled him away when he needed to be with his family. He's a little ashamed he fell for that, actually.

"Five?"

"Huh?"

"What do you remember?" Klaus repeats, like he's talking to a fucking little kid.

Five is not a kid. Little, sure, and that sucks, but definitely not a-

"Five!" Klaus cuts off his thoughts. "You keep drifting off. Are you okay?"

"What do you care?" Five slips his elbows beneath himself and slowly pushes until he's sitting upright. "I remember the Commission agents shooting at us. That's probably how I got this, actually." He tugs up his shirt, and hisses at the sight.

The skin on his abdomen is bright red and inflamed. There's no blood, but he can see the glint of metal buried in his flesh. It looks a lot worse than it feels.

But, then again, his pain scale is way higher than any normal person.

Klaus has a similar reaction, sucking in a breath, before reaching over and pulling Five's shirt down himself. "Don't. Just... ouch."

"Shut up, you big baby." Five pinches the bridge of his nose, both easing the headache and conveying his exasperation. "Okay. I remember... Vanya was playing her violin. She was manipulating the sound and turning into energy. And then you-" He stops, meets Klaus' eyes, and frowns. "You summoned Ben."

Klaus smiles, but it's a little strained. "Yeah, yeah I did. Pretty cool, huh?"

"I didn't know you could do that."

"Ha. Well, I... I did." At Five's stare, Klaus says, "I didn't want to say anything until I could prove it."

"Is that the only reason?" Five asks, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Klaus' fingers keep tapping on the side of the bed—which, as Five suddenly notices, seems to be burned and charred at the edges—in a relentless, nervous motion. Five almost smacks his hand. Almost.

"Well, Luther had just locked Vanya away," Klaus mutters, shuffling his feet. "He said it was because she had new powers. I guess I thought he might shove me in a dark hole too if he knew I could manifest spirits."

"Luther wouldn't have." Would he?

"Yeah, well, you know how unpredictable this family is."

In that brief lull of silence, Five remembers what question he meant to ask.

"Where are we, Klaus?"

A cough. "Um, well, you took us all with you when you jumped through time or whatever."

"And where did we land?" Five prompts.

"I don't really think you're going to like the answer."

"When have I ever liked anything out of your mouth?"

Klaus laughs. "Yeah, um. Yeah never, I guess. So, uh, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think we're most likely in the future."

"The future," Five repeats.

"Yeah, the Apocalypse."

It's like the air is sucked from his lungs. Five's head spins and it's not from the time travel. And his brain jumps to the best conclusion: Klaus is lying.

Five shoves himself to his feet, instantly regrets it as his side explodes with pain, and somehow staggers to the window, where he wrenches open the hastily-hung blinds.

The world is awash in red and orange and gray. Fire burns as far as the eye can see. The air is choked with ash and the putrid odor of rotting flesh. Five suddenly can't breathe.

"Five," Klaus says, but his voice is underwater. Five clutches the edge of the scorched window as his limbs begin to shake.

No. No, no.

They can't be here. He was taking them to the past, not to...

"No," Five whispers.

"Buddy, maybe you should get back in bed, I mean, Diego's gonna stab me if he finds out I'm letting you walk around and shit. Five?"

This isn't real. He's trapped in one of his nightmares or hallucinations. It's just shockingly real, that's all. He'll wake up any second now.

"Five."

There are bodies on the ground. Burned and charred beyond recognition, but still bodies. Corpses.

Dead.

Five sinks to his knees, then bites out a "don't touch me" as Klaus tries to help him up. No, not Klaus. Dream-Klaus. Because this isn't real.

"Look, I don't know what sort of breakdown you're having, but—"

His nightmares never last this long. Why isn't he waking up?

He's losing his mind.

"Get out."

Dream-Klaus hesitates. "Five—"

"Get. Out," Five growls, and Dream-Klaus scrambles away, muttering "jeez" and "c'mon, Ben, let's leave him to brood".

His dream siblings never talked to him. They were dead in his nightmares, after all. Five shudders and ignores the twinge of pain that accompanies the action. This isn't possible. Except...

He's messed up the equations before. Another miscalculation, perhaps.

But that would mean he's really back.

Five presses his forehead against the wood and shuts his eyes tight.

"Shit, Delores, I really fucked up this time."


	3. Yay, sisters

Quite possibly the only people with no handicaps to their powers are Luther and Five. Everyone else has some form of kryptonite, something that can easily render them powerless.

Diego, for instance: Just take away anything to throw and his powers are null. Drugs and alcohol act as an effective stopper for Klaus. Ben's horrors were still made of flesh and could be injured. Even Vanya, as strong as she is, can be defeated immediately by a lack of sound. For Allison, though? It's her voice.

Something so simple as being mute makes her essentially ordinary.

Being unable to speak reminds her of a memory from her childhood, so long ago she'd nearly forgotten, but it stands out all the same.

_They were seven years old. Five had not run away yet, and Ben was still alive. Diego still stuttered. Vanya still smiled._

_Reginald Hargreeves had lined them up in a row, in number order. Vanya wasn't apart of it. Allison was too young to wonder why._

_"I know Number Four has not discovered his power yet," Reginald said, his voice sharp and authoritative. It left no room for argument. "But this does not exempt you. Now, it has come to my attention that the six of you, while learning to grasp your abilities, are not equipped for combat scenarios." Allison raised her hand, a question bubbling in her young mind. "I know what you mean to ask, Number Three, and in some situations, you may not be able to use your power."_

_"When?" Allison asked._

_"When, for instance, there is nothing to throw. Number Two, what do you do?"_

_Diego shifted his weight. "I... I d-do-don't-"_

_"Speak clearly," Reginald ordered._

_"Picture the word," Five whispered discreetly._

_Diego gulped, then tried again. "I-I don't- I don't kn-know."_

_Reginald trudged right on. "And Number Three? What if you find yourself rendered mute?"_

_Silence. They were all confused. Why was he asking them this?_

_"During certain portions of the day, your lessons will be postponed in favor a new training regimen. There will be no exceptions to this and no complaints. This is mandatory." He glanced over at Vanya, who lingered awkwardly by the staircase. "Including you, Number Seven."_

_Vanya brightened, happy at finally being included._

_Allison remembers how soon after they started training, Reginald would pull some of them off to the side for personalized training. She didn't really understand why Diego came back stuttering badly and trembling, or why Five shoveled his food afterward at dinner like he'd never eat again. No, she didn't understand until it was her turn._

_"Where are we going?" Allison asked, following her father obediently out to the car. Reginald did not look back at her._

_"Silence, Number Three."_

_Ah, that word. Allison hated silence. She hated being silent. It made her feel powerless._

_They drove for a while. She sat in her designated spot, right in the middle, despite no one else being there. Force of habit._

_The car rumbled to a stop. She peered out the windows, then hopped out as Reginald slammed the door behind him._

_"Where are we?" Allison asked him. They were standing outside a large, empty warehouse._

_"Training" was the simple answer. "Come along now."_

_Allison trailed him inside the warehouse. Along the walls, there were big, bold printed numbers, and beneath them were various items. For both One and Six, there were large training dummies. For Two, there were knives. For Five, there was a long length of rope. And for Three, there was only a strip of cloth._

_Farther off, there were big, colorful targets with holes in them. Probably from Diego._

_"You will need to practice fighting without your powers," Reginald said, picking up the cloth. "For the rest of the session, you will not be permitted to use your voice."_

Allison shakes her head. That was the moment she began to genuinely, truly hate Reginald Hargreeves. She never found out what he'd done to her siblings in that warehouse, but she knows it was most likely just as traumatic. No one talked about stuff like that. Those were taboo topics.

Not anymore.

The Apocalypse isn't the nicest place she's lived in. The air tastes bitter and everything is uncomfortably hot, but it's overall not as terrible as she thought it would be. There aren't any zombies, and the number of corpses is lower than she'd expected. She'll never get accustomed to the red-gray color of the sky, though. She wonders if Five was exaggerating the quality of this place.

They'd found a basement earlier. It's virtually untouched, with only the building on top reduced to cinders, so that's where they took Vanya. Allison dropped off Five in an upstairs room then immediately went to Vanya. Luther was standing there, arms crossed in the doorway.

He almost stopped her from going inside. The glare she shot him could melt glass.

So now, she sits at Vanya's side, while Luther watches from a safe distance. Allison can feel his pleading gaze on her, but she can't bear to look at him. Things are too messed up right now.

Finally, she can't take the constant pressure, so she flips open her notepad and writes something in thick, blocky letters so he has no reason to misunderstand her. She holds it up for him to see.

_I WANT SOME TIME ALONE._

"Allison, I can't—"

Her pen touches paper again, cutting him off.

_SHE'S MY SISTER._

"She's dangerous," Luther says.

Allison starts scribbling furiously.

_WE'RE ALL DANGEROUS. DIEGO THROWS KNIVES._

"Diego can control his powers."

_IF I COULD MAKE YOU LEAVE, I WOULD._

Luther sighs quietly. "Allison, please—"

_GET OUT._

There's a brief pause where Allison thinks he might not listen, but then, with a sigh and one last sad look, he trudges off. Allison closes the battered door behind him. She's surprised it's still functional.

She returns to Vanya's side.

Vanya's white suit is crinkled and ruffled, and her hair is a tangle of brown, but she smiles faintly in her sleep. Allison swallows thickly. A pang of guilt hits her. Why didn't she try harder? Why did she try to use her powers on Vanya?

Allison slowly realizes that Vanya has never, ever reacted to anything with aggression unless someone was attacking her first. Allison started to use her powers, and Vanya lashed out. Luther and Diego rushed at her, and she struck at them. Everyone went to attack her, and she attacked them in return. Allison can't think of a time when Vanya has ever incited violence for no reason.

Exhaling shakily, Allison reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from her sister's face. Vanya looks so peaceful asleep. The constant weights on her shoulders are absent.

_This is my fault._

Reginald Hargreeves ruined everyone's lives, but he screwed over Vanya most of all. And he made Allison an accomplice.

She wants to curse him, but her voice doesn't cooperate.

_I'm sorry,_ she wants to say to Vanya. She picks up her notepad and writes down the words.

Then Vanya coughs. Allison sets down the notepad and touches Vanya's shoulder. She wishes she could verbally reassure her. Vanya's eyes flutter open with difficulty, her gaze glassy and unseeing. Allison feels a wave of relief as she sees that the strange, icy blue color is no longer there. Vanya looks normal, healthy.

Allison squeezes her arm as Vanya blinks slowly, blearily. Vanya's eyes slide over to her, and a weak smile curves her lips. Allison smiles back.

"Allison," Vanya whispers. Her voice is raspy and soft. "Wh-Wha-"

Raising her fingers to her lips, Allison makes a shushing motion. She holds up her notepad for Vanya to read.

Vanya struggles to focus on the words for a moment. Then she shakes her head, forehead crinkling.

"Do-Don't be sor—ry," Vanya manages. She dissolves into a fit of coughing, sinking back into the couch. "My—My fa-fault. I hurt y-you."

_I HURT YOU TOO_, Allison writes. After a moment, she adds, _YAY SISTERS?_

Vanya's laugh is barely audible. "Yay si-sisters."

Allison keeps scribbling, eating up all of her pages. Soon, she'll have to find another notepad. Where, she has no idea.

_YOU FEELING OKAY?_

"... I would be a-a liar if I said y-yes, right?"

_YES._

A pause. "My ear h-hurts, and it's like r-ri-ringi-ing." Vanya can barely force the words out now, her stutter resembling Diego's. "I c-can't hear v-ver-ry we-ell."

_SORRY. HAD TO STOP YOU BEFORE THEY HURT YOU._ Allison pauses. _YOU LOST CONTROL._

"I hurt them. And I k-k-ki-" Vanya stops and shuts her eyes. Her quivering voice drops to less than a whisper. "I killed P-Pogo. A-And M-M-Mo-Mom."

Allison bows her head at the memory. She takes Vanya's hand and squeezes, unwilling to let her own tears fall.

_YOU WERE ANGRY AND SCARED._

"That's no ex-excuse."

_DAD RUINED OUR LIVES. IT'S HIS FAULT YOU NEVER LEARNED TO CONTROL YOUR POWERS._

_NOT SAYING YOUR HANDS ARE CLEAN._

_BUT WE'RE HERE FOR YOU NOW._

Allison's down to her last few pages. She writes smaller and faster.

_WE WON'T LET THIS HAPPEN AGAIN._

Although she's still disoriented and exhausted, Vanya manages to push herself up and wrap Allison in a careful hug.

"I love you," she murmurs.

When she pulls away, Allison uses her last scrap of paper to write, _I LOVE YOU TOO_. Then she flips back to the top. _YAY SISTERS?_

Chuckling tiredly as her eyes flutter shut, Vanya agrees, "yay sisters."

* * *

Diego deeply regrets his decision to leave Klaus with Five as the former breezes past him by the ruined front door, muttering obscenities to empty air.

"Oh, hello Diego," Klaus chirps. "Looking dashing as ever."

"Why aren't you with Five?"

"That grumpy psycho? Well, in the span of several short seconds, he both insulted me and kicked me out, but what's new?"

"_Klaus_." Diego gestures with his knife, but Klaus carries on, completely unconcerned.

"I could also tell that he really, really wanted to forcefully shut me up, but he seemed kinda upset about bringing us all here." Klaus pats Diego's arm, smiling lazily. "Go check on him, would you? You've just got that big-brother vibe in your soul." And with that, Klaus saunters off down the scorched and cracked road.

"Where are you going?" Diego calls helplessly after him.

"Hopefully to find some cockroaches. Me and Ben have the munchies."

Diego is so utterly and thoroughly exasperated with Klaus that it takes him a minute to realize that food is a legitimate concern. Every living thing was probably eradicated in the blast. Five _did_ say he survived on bugs.

Five. Shit.

Diego walks by a kicked-puppy-looking Luther (he doesn't ask), then opens the one door that isn't completely broken.

The first thing he notices are the walls. While they are crumbling and burned, they are also covered in chalk marks. Little white equations fill up all the available space, which reminds Diego of the one glimpse he had into Five's room. It looks like the work of a madman.

And maybe that description isn't too far off.

Five stands on the tips of his toes, stretching up to press his little nub of chalk into the wall. How he got it, Diego has no clue. He's hissing through his teeth when Diego walks in, one hand clutching his side.

"Um," Diego says.

"Ah!" Five jolts at his voice and drops his piece of chalk. He narrows his eyes at Diego, but Diego can't even feel bad for scaring him over the shock of actually being able to startle Five. He seems a lot more jumpy than usual, now that Diego is closer.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Diego asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Shouldn't you be shoving your foot up your ass?"

Diego sighs. He closes the door the best he can and watches as Five scoops up his chalk, resuming his frantic scribbling. The room is sort of dreary, and it's actually kinda sad with the equations everywhere. Five seems to be ignoring him now, whispering under his breath. Diego catches "Delores" and "failure" along with a few varied swear words.

"What are you doing?" Diego tries.

"What does it look like?"

"Stop throwing my words back at me."

Five seems to hesitate, as if about to do just that, and then resolves to just be silent. As he has to jump a bit to reach the next spot of empty wall, his breath catches and his hand flies to his side. He's still wearing his Academy vest and shorts. With the frayed sleeves, dirt smudges, and charred fabric, he looks like a mess, and by the way his hand shakes while he writes, he is.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"The fact that you said 'I'm fine' instead of just 'no' makes me think you aren't fine." Diego crosses his arms as Five glances back at him, almost snarling, before whirling around and focusing on his calculations. "Aren't you tired? I mean, after literally sending us all into the future."

"Don't remind me."

"Look, it was just a mistake, we-"

Five spins on his heel and hurls the piece of chalk as hard as he can, right at Diego. Thankfully, Diego has fast enough reflexes to curve the chalk right before it smacks him in the forehead, sending it into the nearest wall with a puff white dust.

"It wasn't 'just a mistake'," Five hisses. His hands curl into fists at his sides. "It was my failure. I ruin this time travel thing every time I try. The first time, I got trapped for 45 years in this hell, then I ended up reverting to my thirteen-year-old self, and now I've completely screwed up my aim. I don't even know how the _hell_ I mixed up the past and the future!" He's panting heavily by the end of his rant. His hair sticks up in all directions, and coupled with his ruffled appearance, he looks every bit the teenager his body is.

"Cut yourself some slack," Diego says. "You were thirteen the first time, and you had five passengers with you this time. It's perfectly reasonable to-"

"Don't you get it?" Five snaps. "I can't-" He sucks in a shaky breath, his composure cracking. It's fascinating to watch how his bitter, jaded front crumbles to make way for a broken, vulnerable Five that is unrecognizable to Diego.

"What?"

"I can't let you go through what I did." Five grips his chalk tightly, equations forgotten. "I have to find a way to fix this, or else I'll never... I'll never be able to live with myself." Then, right before Diego's eyes, his hard mask slides right back into place and he raises the chalk, ready to continue his calculations.

"Five, you used a lot of energy getting us here," Diego says quietly. He rises to his feet and walks over to Five, reaching for the chalk. "You need to be resting. When you're feeling better, you can get back to... whatever this is."

Five pauses for the briefest of moments. "No. The sooner I get to work, the better. I need the right equations for time travel."

"You can't travel across the room, much less through time," Diego points out.

"Of course I can." To demonstrate, Five vanishes in a pop of blue, appears on the other side of the room, and promptly collapses. Diego catches him and lays him down on the bed.

"Idiot," Diego mutters. Guess he's going to have to stay here in case Five decides to get up when he's not ready. As Diego looks him over, he notices Five's hand unconsciously gripping his side. Diego gently pushes up his shirt.

His skin is flushed and inflamed, with a piece of shrapnel embedded in his side. It looks painful. Diego wonders how Five was even walking properly.

"Idiot," Diego repeats, shaking his head.

Time to find out if Klaus found anything useful on his Apocalypse scavenger hunt.


	4. confronting Luther

"Maybe if you were actually looking instead of zoning out, you'd find more helpful things."

"Thank for the uninvited input, Ben."

Ben shrugs. He trails after Klaus as he stumbles over scorched wreckage, cursing.

"This would be easier if you didn't stuff yourself with poison for your entire life," Ben says.

"I need no reminders." Klaus kicks a chunk of burning concrete and immediately regrets it as his toes start hurting. "Shit. My physical welbeing shouldn't matter to you, ghost boy."

"You're my brother, Klaus. Of course it does."

"Pshh."

But Klaus starts looking harder anyway. Where the hell do you find food in the Apocalypse?

"I wish one of us had the power to summon food," Klaus laments. He grimaces and steps over a dead body, swallowing his nausea. "You'd think with all the ghosts and shit I'd be used to corpses, but no."

"Speaking of," Ben says, "where are the ghosts?" He glances around, frowning. "There should be a lot more of them, now that the whole world is... dead."

"Don't jinx it."

A pause. "Too late, I think."

Klaus curses Ben under his breath and turns around.

A few feet away stands a charred, burnt husk of a person, every inch of skin scorched and unrecognizable. Klaus grits his teeth and chokes down a cry of fear.

_Klaus._

"C'mon, I'm too sober for this," Klaus hisses. He wheels around to walk away, but stops short as another ghost flickers into view, inches from him. It looks just like the other one; mangled and burned. "Hey, Ben, do you think if I ignore them, they'll leave me alone?"

"You never solved your problems by hiding from them."

_Klaus._

_KLAUS._

"Not right now," Klaus mutters, speeding up his pace.

_Klaus_

_Klaus_

_KLAUS_

_KLAUS!  
_

_**KLAUS!**_

"Getting louder does not make me want to help you." Klaus covers his ears and continues walking. In the corner of his eye, Ben follows. So do the ghosts.

A crowd of charred ghosts begins to gather behind him. Everyone who can speak is doing nothing but chanting his name, slowly increasing in volume and intensity. Occasionally, a ghost will lunge in front of him, and he'll jolt to a stop before remembering they can't touch him.

_**KLAUS-!**_

One of them starts wailing. It's a high pitched raspy sound, and it makes Klaus break into a light jog away from them.

"You can't ignore them forever!" Ben shouts after him.

"I can try!"

Suddenly he can't remember where his siblings are. Every burned building looks the same, and with the ghosts howling bloody murder, he can't recall the exact building.

"Shut up!" Klaus growls at them.

Surprisingly, every last ghost instantly goes silent. They all blink at him.

"Okay. Okay." Klaus lets out a long sigh and clears his mind. "Okay. One at a time, what do you want?"

The ghosts don't jostle to be the first. They actually seem sort of reluctant. Then one of them—a young woman, it appears to be—steps forward, wringing her rotting and burned hands.

"You can see us," she says. Her voice is scratchy and gurgling, but a hint of an accent slips through. Maybe German?. "How?"

"Uh," Klaus replies.

Ben smacks his forehead.

"I have superpowers," Klaus decides to say.

The ghosts murmur amongst themselves, intrigued.

"I don't know how to help you," Klaus admits. He glances over at Ben, who's watching him with his arms crossed. "I literally drowned my sorrows in drugs for the grand majority of my life. I never figured out how to help you guys... move on, or whatever. So, sorry."

"Not helping your case," Ben mutters.

"Shut up."

"Can you learn to help us?" another ghost in the crowd speaks. Klaus has to control his expressions as a boy slips into view. Younger than nine.

"I..." Klaus swallows, tearing his eyes away from the boy's ruined face. "Uh, yeah. I don't know how long it'll take my brother to get us out, so, maybe. Just... give me some time. I can't focus with all of you..." He gestures vaguely at the crowd. "Like this. Go, scatter, dissipate, whatever."

Despite looking less than pleased with it, the majority of the ghosts flicker into thin air. Only the little boy and the young woman remain.

"Don't leave me alone, Mister Klaus," the boy pleads, tilting his rotting head. The woman touches his shoulder gently.

"May we stay?" she asks Klaus. "My family died in another country, so I am alone. We will not bother you."

"R-Right," Klaus says. "Okay."

The woman smiles, but it's more grotesque than happy, and Klaus quickly turns away.

The ghosts no longer hanging around, Klaus finds his way back to the building, and before he can even open the front door, Diego swings it open and pins him with a classic glare.

"Nice to see you too," Klaus mutters.

"I'm willing to guess by your empty hands that you screwed around out there instead of finding anything useful."

"Hey. It's not as easy as it looks." Klaus pushes past Diego and looks over at Luther. "What're you sulking for, big boy?"

"Shut your mouth, Klaus," Luther snaps.

"Touchy, I see."

"Klaus," Diego interrupts. "I need you to go back out. Five has an infected shrapnel wound and I need medical supplies."

"I highly doubt I'm going to find gauze and peroxide in the Apocalypse," Klaus points out, tipping his head to one side. "But you're welcome to try."

Diego's glare sharpens.

"Look, there are billions of screaming ghosts out there. Sorry if I got a little distracted." Klaus moves past him and heads for the basement. "Send someone who can't talk to the dead next time." Then he leaves his brothers behind, descending into the chilly basement.

Vanya's stark white suit is the first thing that draws his attention. How that whole thing even happened, he certainly doesn't know. At her side, Allison grips one of her hands and watches over her like a sentinel. It's sorta endearing.

"Hey," Klaus says quietly. Allison glances up at him. "How's she doing?"

Allison sections off a tiny scrap of available space on her notebook and holds it up for him. _TIRED._ Her writing cramps into the corner of the paper. _no write space._

"Ah. We'll have to find you a notebook."

Allison nods.

He lowers himself into a kneel next to her, looking over Vanya. He feels suddenly guilty, a vision of her desperate, tear-streaked face behind thick glass flashing before his eyes. In addition to being terrified out of his mind that Luther would also condemn him, Klaus was undergoing the shocking realization that _Dad locked her up too._ He'd thought he was the only one who suffered that sort of isolation. Apparently not.

"Allison," Klaus murmurs. She turns to him. "Do you remember when Dad stuffed me in that crypt?"

Biting her lip, Allison nods guiltily.

"You know, I thought I was alone in my punishment. But now, knowing that Dad locked Vanya away in that dark hole, it just... puts things into perspective. I feel bad for not being there when she needed us."

'Me too', Allison mouths.

Klaus laughs dryly. "Some shitty siblings we are, huh?"

A gentle but stern hand pushes his shoulder. Allison rolls her eyes, then shakes her head. Klaus doesn't really know what to interpret that as.

"... Klaus?"

Klaus doesn't realize he'd drifted off until a weak voice reaches his ears and he jerks to attention. Allison is gone, and Vanya peers over at him, her eyes warm and brown and _alive._

"Rise and shine," Klaus tells her. He straightens out his back, yawning.

"Says the one who was dozing off." Her voice is soft and gently teasing. "You haven't been asleep long, don't worry. Allison only left a few minutes ago."

"Ah."

Vanya rubs her eyes, then slowly sits up. Klaus hovers beside her, ready to help if she needs it.

"I saw what you did," she says quietly. "At the theater. With Ben."

"Oh, you uh, you did?"

"Yeah. It was amazing."

"Oh, well, I—"

Then the basement door swings open, and Luther steps inside. Klaus feels Vanya stiffen, and he squeezes her hand comfortingly.

"Family meeting in Five's room," Luther says, pointedly not looking at either of them.

"Are you really in a position to call one of those?" Klaus asks innocently.

"... I'm not. Diego is."

"Ah now, see, that makes more sense. Should lead with that so people don't get rightfully confused."

Luther closes the door a little too hard behind him.

"Let's go, little sis," Klaus says, looping his arm around Vanya and helping her to her feet.

"We're the same age," she replies. She leans against him as they walk towards the door.

"Maybe so, but I'm a good foot taller."

Vanya laughs.

They stumble up the stairs, then Klaus is all but dragging Vanya into Five's room. Diego leans against the windowsill, Allison sits on the bed, Luther stands by the door, and Five himself is sitting up, rubbing his side and glaring daggers at everyone. Nothing out of the ordinary, then.

The group was more arguing than talking, but as soon as Klaus brings Vanya in, the conversation dies. Only Five doesn't flinch when Vanya sits down beside him.

"As I was saying," Five says, "I've decided that we landed three months into the future."

"Oh? How do you figure?" Klaus asks.

"Because some of us can do simple math." Five spares him a glance, then fixes his eyes somewhere on the equations-covered wall. "Now, I also think I know what went wrong. I didn't properly account for the weight back at the theater."

"Weight?" It's Diego this time, eyebrows furrowed.

"Not the weight you're thinking of, not pounds. Weight like presence. Everyone has a weight. It's really the only thing that defines a person, confirms their reality. Ghosts have a weight too, which is why I could bring Ben too."

"What are you saying?"

"Weight pushes on the folds of the universe," Five explains. "When I tried to take us all to the past, I didn't anticipate the added weight, and instead of passing through it sort of..." He gestures with his hands, attempting to make his point clear. "It pushed us back. We ricocheted through spacetime and crashed through the folds three months into the Apocalypse."

A pause. "How do you know this?" Luther asks.

The glare Five gives him could shatter glass. "I would hope I'd understand my own powers pretty well."

"It's just..." Luther sighs. "Should we really be trusting you blindly? I mean, ever since you got back, you've been acting..."

"Luther," Diego warns.

"No, let him continue," Five says. He tilts his head, expression hard. "How have I been acting, Luther?"

"Like a lunatic," Luther replies, crossing his arms. "Writing nonsense all over the walls, staking out a lab for days at a time, talking to a goddamn _mannequin?_ How can you possible say you're in the right frame of mind to get us out the mess _you_ put us in?"

Suddenly, next to Luther, a bottle explodes with a loud _pop!,_ showering Luther with shards of glass.

"Shut the hell up," Vanya says icily. Her dark glare is viciously cold.

Klaus doesn't miss the way that Allison and Diego flinch, while Five's eyes go wide in surprise. Luther's face shifts from irritation to fear in the span of several seconds.

It would've been funny if Klaus hadn't seen the flash of pure rage on Vanya's face before it vanished, replaced with stony calm. It was the same sort of rage that brought the Umbrella Academy to its knees. The sort that ended the world.

Thankfully there's nothing to burn down anymore.

Five shoots Vanya a grateful look. She smiles back, the fury in her expression fading.

"That brings me to my next point," Five says. "Vanya. Your powers are uncontrollable and fueled by your emotions. Due to Dad's bad life decisions, you and nobody else has any idea how to control them. I think it's best that while I'm working on my calculations, Klaus and Diego help you figure out your powers. Lucky us, the world has already been destroyed, so any damage you do won't be catastrophic."

Vanya visibly swallows. "Are you sure that's a good idea? What if I... hurt someone?"

"That's why we're doing it. So it doesn't happen again." Five tries to stand up, but ends up flopping back down with a huff. "Now, to address Luther's apparent distrust of my mental capabilities. All of us are fucked up, emotionally stunted adults. Dad locked Klaus in mausoleums, Ben was killed, Luther was sent up to the moon, and I spent forty-five years alone in the Apocalypse, then went on to become a hitman for the Temps Commission. We're all screwed up, maybe me most of all, but it's been shown many times that following you, Luther, has only lead to the literal end of everything."

Luther opens his mouth, but Five barrels on.

"So now I think it's best that everyone listens to me, because I have spent the longest mastering my powers, and I am the genius of this group, rivaled only by Ben. I figured out how to time travel at the age of thirteen. I spent a lifetime trying to remove myself from the Commission so I could save all of you, because do you want to know what I found here the first time?"

Only Luther knows this. Everyone else listens with rapt attention.

Five's voice softens. "I found your dead bodies under the rubble of the Umbrella Academy. At thirteen, I found my adult family members killed in battle, recognizable only by the tattoos on your wrists. I didn't have a childhood. I grew up here. And yeah, maybe I lost it along the way, and I'm not handling being back too well, but I'm still more qualified than you to lead us out of this mess."

It takes Klaus a moment to realize that Number Five, pretentious-bastard-slash-righteous-genius had just admitted a weakness. Holy shit. That sort of occasion deserves a party. 'Cause really, Five =/= vulnerable.

"So I suggest you take Vanya's advice," Five snaps, his voice hardening again, "and shut the hell up."

Tense silence reigns for several moments. Then Luther slumps, unspokenly acknowledging Five's authority. Allison relaxes. Diego stops digging his knife into the wall. Off to the side, Ben smiles, unseen.

"Great!" Klaus exclaims, clapping his hands together. "Now that we've got this whole dominance battle thing figured out, I say we start Vanya's training today. Sooner than later, huh? Right? C'mon Diego, Vanya, even Allison if you want. I saw this only-partially destroyed building that could work as perfect target practice."


	5. Hot Take: Vanya is Ripoff Jean Grey

Despite Klaus trying to fill the silence with any nonsense he can, Allison can't help but feel like he's making it worse. Diego and Vanya's relationship is rocky at best, but he knows how to wield his powers with the utmost precision, which is why he's coming with them.

Klaus, on the other hand? He, too, has new powers that he doesn't seem to be able to control, and Five thought it was best to knock out two birds with one stone.

Also, Allison is eager to know more about Ben, who she hasn't seen since he died.

She has mixed feelings about Ben. He was always quiet, his nose buried in a book, his voice comforting at best and cutting at worst. He wasn't provoked easily, but if you made him angry, then... Let's just say he wasn't very good at controlling the horrors under his skin.

He'd also guilt trip you to the end of time.

"I think this place is nice and suitable," Klaus says, drawing to a halt. They're standing out on the open street in front of a battered building identical to the rest. What's special about this place, Allison can't ask and doesn't want to.

"So what do you want me to do?" Vanya asks. She wrings her hands, shuffling her feet, nervous. Allison touches her arm gently.

"I don't know, maybe make that building blow up or something." Klaus pats her shoulder. "However you did it last time."

"I can't do it like last time," Vanya mutters.

"Right, and we don't want you to," Klaus corrects himself quickly. "Just... how did you figure it out?"

Vanya bites her lip. "Well, the first time, I was angry. I found out that you were having a family meeting without me. I made some lampposts bend and I crushed some cars. Then I was with L- Harold Jenkins, and he was getting beat up by these men, and I... I killed them. It was an accident. I was angry they were hurting him. Then Allison told me that she-" She cuts herself off, swallowing thickly. Allison rubs her arm. "She rumored me when we were kids. She made me think I was ordinary. I was so betrayed, so furious, and I had been off my meds for a while so I felt everything more strongly, and I just reacted."

"So you decided to kill her?" Diego snaps, crossing his arms.

Vanya flinches. Allison glares at him.

"Hey, whoa, too far," Klaus says. He changes the subject. "What else?"

"I found Dad's journal," Vanya continues. "Harold was using it to manipulate me, to trigger my powers for his own gain. I felt... betrayed. I was angry. And then I killed him."

"Pretty badass," Klaus says, grinning.

"And in the vault..." Vanya's voice drops to a whisper. "I thought you were going to leave me in there forever. I was scared, and angry, and betrayed. My powers are useless if I have to feel horrible in order to actually use them."

"We'll have to find a way to help your powers feed off of good emotions instead of bad ones," Diego mutters thoughtfully. He seems to be over his anger, thankfully.

"No better place than the Apocalypse!" Klaus exclaims, spinning in a circle and flourishing his arms grandly. "Destroy things to your heart's content!"

Allison wishes she had her notebook so she could give Vanya advice, but now she's just here for support. Plus, she can't be in the same area as Luther right now. Her feelings are too mixed up.

"So, anger seems to be your main trigger," Diego says. "It's not like that for most of us."

"Yeah, my powers only work when I'm sober and calm," Klaus chimes in. "I'm useless if I'm scared."

"What's the closest thing to anger that isn't anger?" Diego considers this for a moment. Vanya shrugs, lost.

Allison taps Diego's shoulder insistently. He raises an eyebrow at her. She presses her lips together, rubs her hands down her face in frustration, wishing she could speak.

"We don't understand you," Klaus says unhelpfully. He wilts under Allison's glare.

She holds up five fingers.

"Number Five?" Diego guesses.

She nods quickly.

"It's something that Five feels?"

God, what a shitty game of charades. She nods again.

"Probably a lot, right?" Klaus asks. Her head hurts from all the nodding. "Scorn? Disdain? Vengeance?"

Shake.

"Pride? Um, maybe frustration?"

She nods, then holds her hands close so they're nearly touching.

"We're close? Close to frustration?"

Nod.

"Exasperation? Bitterness?" Diego tries.

Shake.

"Irritation?" Vanya asks.

Allison nods vigorously.

"That makes sense," Diego says. "It's not the same as anger, but it's close enough. If we irritate Vanya enough, maybe she'll make some windows explode."

Shake. Allison mouths, 'don't provoke', but clearly, no one is a lip-reading expert. She tries again, slowly, enunciating each syllable.

"Coke?" Klaus guesses. Allison pokes him in the ribs. "Ouch, okay, jeez. First Ben is berating me for my life decisions, and now I'm being prosecuted for my lip-reading skills. Will this torment ever end?"

This time, Diego jabs him.

"You're all meanies," Klaus says. "Except you, Vanya dear, we love you."

Vanya rolls her eyes.

"So you think we shouldn't be actively trying to irritate Vanya?" Diego asks Allison.

This is so, so much more difficult than it needs to be. If Allison could just speak, then she could tell them that Vanya only needs to remember the emotion rather than actively feel it. And once they can find a way to harness her good emotions, then it's just in the bag.

Allison almost stomps her foot in frustration. She taps her head, mouthing, 'remember'.

All three of them blink at her owlishly.

Idiots.

... but they're her idiots.

"Just, how did you do it at the uh, the bar?" Klaus says to Vanya.

"Sound," Vanya replies. "I used the sound around me. That's how I figured it out last time."

"Well, too bad there's not much noise out here to use, but I guess we can try."

"Maybe hum something?" Vanya suggests.

Huh. It's not a bad idea. Allison nods to show her support.

"Um, okay," Klaus says. He starts to hum something, but his voice is wavering and tentative. Finally he cuts himself off with a groan. "It's so much harder to not care what people think when you're sober. I could do whatever weird shit I wanted when I was high."

"Whoa, Klaus feeling shame?" Diego comments dryly. "That deserves a medal. Do you want a gold star?"

"Yes, pin it right here, please."

"Guys, focus," Vanya interjects, although she's smiling too. "Okay. I'm going to try." She closes her eyes and exhales slowly.

It isn't silent, like Allison expected, but rather just quiet. The world is full of subtle sounds and noises that would normally go unnoticed with the hum of daily life in the way. She hopes Vanya is latching onto that.

Then, slowly, the air around them begins to ripple. Like a heat wave, Vanya's figure begins to distort, warping and twisting with a strange rattling noise. The wind stirs up dust along the ground. Vanya's hair lifts up slightly in the unnatural breeze.

Allison resists the urge to flinch back. The last time she'd seen Vanya do this was not a pleasant memory. Glancing over, she sees that Diego and Klaus seem to be having similar reactions.

Vanya opens her eyes. A small smile lights up her face.

Her eyes are brown.

A sigh of relief escapes Allison.

"Holy shit," Klaus whispers.

Vanya lifts her chin, and the dust swirling around her kicks up a notch, spinning in a miniature tornado at her feet. Diego takes a step back. The rattling noise intensifies.

Everyone stares, entranced by the sight.

Then suddenly, the wind begins to howl, pushing them back, the dust clouding around Vanya. She stands in the center of it all, smiling, head tilted to the black and red sky. The rattling noise heightens to a deafening beat, accompanied by the ripples growing in size, spiraling around her in a vortex of sound.

It's incredible.

It's terrifying.

"Vanya!" Diego tries to call, but his voice is drowned out by the storm rattling around her.

Klaus steps toward her, but the wind buffets him backwards. "Vanya! Chill for a sec, maybe?"

Knowing she needs to intervene before Vanya loses control completely, Allison takes a risk and jumps into the curtain of wind, somehow crashing through and landing with Vanya. Everything is still, even peaceful inside the eye of the hurricane. The rattling is quieter, and as Allison strains to hear, she realizes Vanya is humming softly to herself, fueling the storm.

Allison touches her shoulder.

The sound cuts off, and the wind dies to a faint breeze. The dust settles at their feet. Vanya blinks at Allison, confused for a moment, before her eyes go wide.

"I didn't mean to, I couldn't-" Vanya wraps her arms around herself and flinches as Allison reaches out. "I can't do this. I can't control what happens and I-I could hurt one of you next time. I can't do it."

Allison gives her a stern look. She grips Vanya's sleeve firmly, trying to communicate her support with her eyes.

Vanya seems to understand. She deflates, the tension draining from her shoulders. The corner of her lips quirk into a small smile.

"I think what we need to focus on," Diego says, shaking off his nervousness from before, "is precision, and not brute strength. You've got enough of that, I think."

"Yeah," Vanya agrees, chuckling.

"Can I just say that you're a total badass?" Klaus pipes up, grinning. "What the hell was Dad thinking? You're amazing!"

Vanya shifts her weight, smiling bashfully. "You're amazing too. I mean, you summoned Ben at the concert."

"I meant to ask you about that," Diego says. He scrapes his fingernails clean with a knife, then blows on the sleek metal surface. "You said something about meeting Dad in the afterlife, right? And he said you had wasted your potential? Is that what you were talking about?"

Klaus hums his agreement. "I've been able to see Ben since he died, but none of you ever believed me."

'Sorry', Allison mouths.

"_No problemo, mi hermana._ He's the one who convinced me to get sober, actually." Klaus glances to the side, where Allison assumes Ben must be. "I also tried to tell you guys at the bowling alley, but of course, Ben chose in that moment to be incorporeal. Thanks, Ben." Klaus sticks out his tongue at thin air. Then he says, "hey, so, while we're on the topic of destroying things and Ben, I'd like to pitch an idea."

Allison gestures for him to go on.

"The issue is Vanya being able to easily pound us into the dirt, right? So what if we had her train with someone she couldn't hurt?"

"Where are you going with this?" Vanya asks.

"Ben is dead. He can't die again, or even feel pain, so what if I summoned Ben and you trained with him instead of us?"

Diego looks genuinely surprised. "That's... a shockingly logical plan."

"I _can_ be smart, you know."

"... doubtful."

"Hey!"

Allison waves her hands, breaking up the argument. The wish for telepathic capabilities increases with every second.

"Right, right, focusing," Klaus mutters. "Okay." His fingers curl into fists and he stares hard at them, eyebrows furrowed. "You know, Ben, you could _try_ to manifest. Leaving me with all the hard work."

Then after a moment, a harsh blue glow envelopes his hands, like Five's teleporting. Klaus starts grinning. Off to the side, blue light slowly shifts into the form of a young man, wearing a dark hoodie and jeans, his face angular and shockingly familiar.

Ben's figure ripples, hazy, before stabilizing, a bright blue glow lining his body.

Allison's breath catches. She hasn't seen Ben for over fifteen years. He looks the same.

"Ben," Vanya whispers.

Ben's head snaps to the side at her voice, his eyes wide. His lips curl into a smile. "Vanya?"

"Ha!" Klaus exclaims. "I did it!"

"You did it," Diego breathes.

Vanya takes a step forward. Ben crosses the distance and wraps her in a hug, letting out a small gasp when he realizes he could actually touch her. Vanya sinks into his embrace.

"Hey, sis," Ben murmurs. "Long time no see."

"You haven't changed," Vanya laughs, drawing back to look at him.

Once everyone has gotten a hug and a quip from Ben, as per the norm, they start Vanya's training. Ben goes easy on her at first, but when it becomes clear she isn't and doesn't know how to hold back, Ben doesn't either. Allison had forgotten how terrifying Ben's powers are, and the show he puts on is a stark reality shock. And throughout it all, a dim blue glow coats his body, reminding them that he is no longer of the living.

Klaus smiles wider than she's ever seen.

The day is over quicker than Allison would prefer. The light dims until they can no longer see the sun, and the murky red clouds fade to hazy patches in the smoke-filled sky. The fires become brighter in the night, flickering in ghostly shapes and patterns as far as the eye can see. It would be beautiful if it wasn't so sad.

"Whoo," Klaus breathes, sliding down until he's sitting on the ground. "Who knew constant use of your powers was so goddamn exhausting? Everyone say bye to Ben, cause I don't think I can keep this up for much longer.

Ben hugs Vanya one last time, then smiles gently at Allison. "It's good to see you," he says. "I mean, I could always see you, but it's good to be seen."

Allison laughs silently. She mouths, 'I missed you'.

"You too," Ben replies. Then his body flickers blue and he vanishes.

Klaus slumps, the blue glow fading from his hands. "Yeesh. Carry me Diego, my legs are weak."

"Come on, you big baby." Diego scoops him up bridal-style, causing Klaus to yelp in surprise.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!"

"Don't underestimate me."

"Diego," Klaus whines, clinging to him like a small child.

Allison covers her mouth to hide a grin.


	6. hi can we acknowledge how Ben is amazing

Five feels like obsessive isn't quite the right word to describe him. That would imply it's consuming him to a troubling extent, but that isn't true. He's just getting his work done.

Perhaps devoted is the right one. It doesn't have any negative connotations. Dedicated, committed, plagued, preoccupied, obsessed.

All these words, but Five doesn't need words to save his family. He only needs the numbers.

God, he wishes Delores was here.

She always knew the right things to say to help him relax. Her concern over his drinking problem was annoying a few years ago, but now he'd give anything to hear her chide him.

_Don't think about things you can't change,_ he reminds himself. He ran out of wall space a while ago, so now he's crouched on the floor, scribbling out his equations. He knows this isn't healthy. He knows Delores is probably shaking her head somewhere, scolding him for falling right back into his old bad habits.

He knows he can't bear another forty-five years here.

A while passes before he finally sets down the chalk, exhausted for the day. The daylight has dimmed outside, which means that the others should be back soon. As much as he hates to rest when he could be working, he knows his goddamn thirteen-year-old body can't handle the amount of stress as his older one. It needs to sleep and recharge, no matter how much he wants to just keep going until he burns himself out.

"Bullshit," he mutters, climbing into the ruined bed. He hates everything about this.

_Knock knock knock._

He sighs. Probably Klaus or Diego, back to bother him. Diego means well, but dammit, Five isn't a baby. He doesn't need to be constantly coddled or supervised.

Delores would claim otherwise.

"What?" he calls out.

The door cracks open.

It's Luther.

Do the gods never give mercy?

"What do you want?" Five snaps, crossing his arms. He's still irritated at Luther from earlier, and doesn't really want to have a nice chat right now. He fears he might stab someone if Luther talks for too long.

"Can I come in?" Luther asks.

Five notes his tense stance, the way his hands twitch at his sides. He's nervous. About being near Five? Doubtful.

"Fine," Five mutters. "Make it quick."

"Okay." Luther shuffles inside and closes the door. He looks down at the equations beneath his feet, unable to hide his discomfort. Good. Let him be uncomfortable.

"What do you want?" Five repeats.

"Um, well, I just..." Luther sighs. "I'm sorry about earlier. Look, I didn't mean to undermine you or whatever, I just wanted to make sure we were covering all bases and I guess I came off as accusing. So, yeah. Sorry."

Five blinks at him several times. Whatever he expected, that wasn't it. He actually doesn't know what to say.

"Sorry," Luther mutters, "I shouldn't have—Yeah, I'll just be going—"

"Wait." Five pulls himself into a sitting position, ignoring the burning in his side so he can look Luther in the eyes. "Thanks. Don't get me wrong, I'm still annoyed, but yeah you're forgiven, I guess. Don't make a habit of it."

Luther pales at his threat, but when Five's lips curve into a shit-eating grin, he smiles too.

"And you shouldn't make a habit of threatening people," Luther replies. "Puts people off, you know?"

"Exactly."

They share a brief laugh. Five winces and touches his side. Diego had ripped up pieces of his stupid spandex suit and wrapped it around his wound, but it still hurts like all hell.

"Oh, um, and something else," Luther says before he leaves. His voice turns serious. "You should really start thinking about after."

"After what?"

"After this. All this Apocalypse, hitman shit. It's not going to be a pleasant experience when your life mission means nothing anymore."

"What would you know?" Five snaps, a moment before he realizes that Luther, in fact, definitely knows.

Luther's smile is all pain and no humor. "Just think about it, okay? Try to not get too wrapped up in this, or it'll be an even bigger letdown."

The door clicks behind him. Five breathes a laugh.

"Too late."

* * *

Five's dreams are pleasant for once in his life.

It's a memory from early childhood. They were eleven, nearly twelve. A year before he ran away.

Klaus had crept into his bedroom and convinced him to join the rest of them. Five was surprised to find Luther and Vanya among them.

"Where are we going?" Allison whispered, rubbing her eyes.

"Out," Klaus said. "Five, pop us out, would you?"

"Fine." Five took them one at a time, depositing them on the sidewalk outside the house. The sky was a deep, midnight blue, sparkling with dozens of twinkling stars. By the time Five had gotten everyone out, he was dizzy and swaying on his feet.

"C'mon," Klaus said, looping his arm under Five to help him walk.

The group scurried down the street like rats, dodging pedestrians and ducking into the bushes when cars drove by, in case someone decided to stop for a chat about where their parents were. 'Home in bed' wasn't appropriate, and 'scattered around the globe' probably wouldn't fly either.

Klaus finally made his destination known.

Griddy's Doughnuts.

"Really, Klaus?" Allison said, hands on her hips. "Doughnuts in the middle of the night? I was sleeping!"

"We were all sleeping," Ben grumbled.

"Yeah, but fuck sleep, right?" Klaus grinned at their weary expressions. "C'mon."

They piled into the diner, lining up subconsciously in numerical order, which pinned Five between Klaus and Ben. Not a good position.

The waitress took their orders, despite looking a bit confused and obviously looking for their parents. She gave everyone a doughnut except for Five, who ordered a coffee.

"Dad hates caffeine," Luther pointed out. "You shouldn't be drinking that."

Five stuck out his tongue and took a swig.

"It'll stunt your growth," Ben added.

"Shut up."

Klaus stuffed doughnuts into his mouth until he had to run outside and empty his guts on the sidewalk, much to everyone's amusement. Five just sipped his coffee, rolling his eyes.

"Y-You never kno-know when to s-sto-stop, do you?" Diego teased Klaus when he came back inside.

"Assholes, the lot of you," Klaus managed.

They laughed and chatted and ate doughnuts long into the night, until the clock struck two in the morning and Luther made the collective decision to go back before they got caught. Klaus grumbled but relented, and the group snuck back into the house.

Five had barely teleported everyone inside before a stern "ahem" reached his ears.

Pogo watched them from the parlor entrance, one eyebrow raised. He noted their rumpled appearances and the unfinished doughnut in Vanya's hand.

"Pogo," Luther started, but Allison clapped a hand over his mouth.

"I saw nothing," Pogo said after a moment. He turned away from them, eyes twinkling. "The children were in bed all night, I would hope."

They all nodded rapidly and fled upstairs. All but Five.

He'd said quietly, "thanks, Pogo, but why aren't you telling Dad?"

Pogo had only smiled slightly. "Children deserve to be children once in a while."

Five opens his eyes to that blasted beige ceiling. His head spins, dizzy and disoriented until he remembers where he is. He slowly sits up, rubbing his side, then swings his legs over the side of the bed. Every limb aches and groans like a creaky hinge. Is this what a good sleep feels like?

Huh.

"... and so then I said, 'yeah man, I'm a time-traveling medium who—" Klaus cuts himself off and whistles at Five. He shuts the door. "Dude, you look like shit."

"Check your vision. There isn't a mirror here." Five pushes himself up and finds the spot in his equations where he'd left off earlier. When is earlier, again? His internal clock is completely thrown off.

"I'll give you that, but have you considered..." Klaus hops onto Five's bed and crosses his legs beneath himself. "There's only one lunatic in this room, and it's not yours truly."

"Touché."

"Now, uh, whatcha doing?"

"I've told you multiple times, so I really don't know why you keep asking."

Klaus huffs. "Well, the only answer I've gotten is 'equations' so forgive me for desiring clarity."

Five slowly straightens, staring incredulously at Klaus. The idiocy of his siblings never fails to disappoint. "Why do you insist on interrupting me? Do you _want _to spend any more time here than necessary?"

"I mean, it's not totally terrible."

If he was incredulous before, Five is absolutely livid now. "_What?"_

"It's not totally terrible!" Klaus defends. He shrugs. "Sure, the smoke is sorta annoying, and the whole everyone-is-dead thing sucks, but overall, in terms of quality, it's not... horrible. Do you think maybe you just... exaggerated? Just a tiny bit?"

For the first time in a very, very long time, Five is rendered speechless. He expected this from Luther, or Diego, but he'd thought that Klaus was on his side. The only person who truly believed him. Apparently not.

Do...

Do they all think he's blowing things out of proportion?

Do they really think he's just going crazy?

Something burns in his eyes. He blinks it away.

"Dad did say that time travel could mess up your mind," Klaus says, still talking, still landing blow after blow. Five leans against the wall, his legs suddenly weak. "So maybe it wasn't as terrible as you've convinced yourself it is."

"Are you calling me insane?" Five hisses, taking a trembling step towards his brother.

"No, I'm just... I'm covering all bases."

"You sound like Luther."

At that, Klaus balks, shaking his head. "No, I'm not—Don't even go there. I'm not saying you're insane."

"Then what are you saying?" Five crosses his arms, eyes narrowed.

Klaus waves his hands, looking frustrated. "Five, look at yourself! You're a mess. You have been since you got back. I'm worried about you."

Five takes a moment to look down at himself. His clothes are rumpled and dirty, blood staining his vest in various places, and he's sure if there was a mirror, he would be able to see his surely-disheveled appearance. But it doesn't matter what he looks like, as long as he can save his siblings from this place.

"No need," Five decides to say, brushing Klaus off. "I'll clean up once we're out of here."

"Haven't you considered ever taking a break? Maybe a spa day? Sunbathe in the Apocalypse?" Klaus stretches out on the bed, pantomiming just that. "With all the smoke and shit, you probably don't even need sunscreen."

"I can't take a break!" Five shouts suddenly, dropping his chalk. Klaus flinches in surprise. "I can't take a fucking break, you moron! If I decide to slack off, even a little bit, the longer we spend here is the longer it gives the Commission time to hunt us down, and the longer I have to stay in this _God-forsaken_ place where I lost my fucking _mind!"_ He jabs his finger harshly into Klaus' chest. "You will never have to go through the shit I have. You will never be alone for forty-five years in a place where your lungs _burn_ with every breath and you can never blink the _ash _out of your eyes. You will never, at the age of _thirteen,_ have to find your dead siblings _buried_ under the rubble of your home. You will never, _never _have to resort to giving a goddamn mannequin a voice and a name because there is _no one _else to talk to besides yourself!"

Klaus opens his mouth, but Five isn't done.

"You will _never_ experience The Handler luring you away with the promise of true purpose. You will never have to watch everything you love shatter while you're helpless to stop it. You will never get to see _all_ of your hard work and effort crumble because you couldn't find a way to stop the _one thing_ that has consumed you for your entire life."

Five sucks in a ragged gasp of a breath, chest heaving, fingers twitching from his outburst. Klaus stares at him, wide-eyed.

"So don't you _dare_," Five snarls, "don't you dare try to tell me I'm exaggerating things. You have no fucking clue what it's like. And you will _never_ know because I will never let any of you go through what I did. That's why I can't take a break." He closes his eyes and focuses on steadying his breathing, ignoring Klaus' searching eyes.

Klaus doesn't speak for a while. When he does, his voice is soft. "Five, I didn't mean to—I was just trying to help. I—"

"Well you did a bang-up job of that."

"Dammit, shut up!"

Five's eyes fly open, ready to launch into another tangent when he sees Klaus staring at thin air, somewhere off to the side.

"I get it," Klaus grumbles. "No, I—" He cuts himself off, grinning sheepishly at Five. "Brothers, huh?"

"... I guess." Five turns away. His anger drains away, leaving him feeling hollow.

It had occurred to him on more than one occasion that Klaus was talking to Ben, but he never asked about it or questioned it, leaving Klaus to tell him when he saw fit. After the theater incident, however, he finds himself more curious than ever about Ben and how long Klaus has been able to see him. If he sees him at all.

He doesn't ask. Something about the possibility of seeing Ben, actually seeing him, after so long, it's... it's almost too much.

"So. Five..." Klaus trails off awkwardly. Five picks up his chalk and starts writing, trying to drown his thoughts in the math and equations. "Sorry, man, I know you're more fucked up than the rest of us but I didn't really..."

"Understand. I get it."

"Nah, you don't."

Five looks up. Klaus smiles sadly.

"You don't get how much people care about you. You can't comprehend that anyone would ever want to fight for you the way you fight for us." Klaus says this weirdly, like he's reading them from a script. It makes Five frown. "You've never understood how your wellbeing matters too."

"What?"

"That's Ben's input, if you were wondering."

Five swallows. "Ah. I see."

"Do you..." Klaus wiggles his fingers. "... wanna see him?"

"I'm good." Five notices how his nub of chalk is rapidly shortening. He'll have to find something else to write with. "Look, it's hard for me to concentrate with you here."

"Aw, Five, don't hurt Ben's feelings like that," Klaus chides, tapping his shoulder disapprovingly. "Why don't you want to hang out with your dead brother? I do it all the time."

"Well, you're you, so."

"C'mon Five, ol' Benny here's gettin' all weepy over you."

"I'm going to stab you with the Diego's bluntest knife."

Klaus holds a hand up to his chest in mock horror. "You wouldn't!"

"I would. Now leave me alone."

"But why don't you want to see him?"

Five grits his teeth. "Leave me alone, Klaus."

"But—"

"Klaus, leave."

"Why are you so moody? Is it puberty?" Klaus crosses his arms. "Look, I love Ben, and I want to know why you don't want to see him. He just asked me if you hate him."

"I don't hate him. I want you to get out."

"I thought you guys were close as kids. So why—"

"Because I can't handle it!" Five snaps, and Klaus falls silent. "I can't handle Ben's pitying looks. And I can't handle—" He shakes his head. "I can handle the resentment from Diego, or Allison, or even Vanya. But I can't handle resentment from Ben. He was the one person who understood, and I don't know what I'll do if he—"

Five stops talking. He's spilled too many secrets today. Maybe it was that decent sleep he'd gotten.

Klaus rubs his hands together. "He doesn't resent you. And I think I'd know, seeing as I can literally see him right now."

"But..."

"I'm going to summon him and you'll see for yourself."

Five doesn't have a chance to protest again before Klaus' hands light up blue, and a cold hand settles on his shoulder.

He can't bear to look. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Strong arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug. His breathing hitches. Fingers thread into his hair. The touch is ice cold.

"Good to see you," Ben murmurs.

Five swallows with difficulty. "Y-You too," he manages to whisper. He doesn't remember the last time he felt so _safe._

"From what I've seen," Ben says, "you deserve a lifelong vacation. You and me both."

A weak laugh escapes Five. "Yeah."

Ben is still hugging him. "I don't resent you. I've never resented you."

"But I left," Five protests. "If I had stayed, maybe you wouldn't have..." _Died._

"We can't worry about the past," Ben says. "Or the future. Only the now matters. What you did doesn't define you, Five, it's what you want to _be_."

"Why do you have to be so goddamn wise?"

"You may the brains of this operation, but I'm the common sense."

"... touché."


	7. time,,,,,,, is a T R E E

Vanya can't remember the last time she felt this good.

It's like she's surfing atop a massive wave, but the wave never crashes, and she never goes under, she just keeps riding it out, euphoria flooding every nerve. Her emotions crash like the ocean on cliffs, a raging thunderstorm in sharp contrast to the dull ripples they were before.

She _feels__._

She feels alive.

She feels _awake._

And damn, being awake is better than she could have ever imagined.

Her powers swell and twist inside her, tsunamis of strength she never would've thought possible in the past. The very air seems to lift her up and carry her, everything in sight a potential weapon. She can't stop smiling.

It's second day in the Apocalypse. Five had approached them that morning, insisting that they needed to move to a safer place, to avoid something he called 'the Commission'. When she'd asked, he explained that they were the shooters at her concert.

It was a shock to realize that they weren't there on the offensive. They were protecting her. They wanted the Apocalypse.

If her good emotions are thunderstorms, then her bad ones are nuclear bombs.

Sometimes, when she thinks about Reginald Hargreeves, a surge of hate explodes inside her, and she fights to quell the whirlwind of rage that bursts to life within her. Other times, when she makes eye contact with Luther, there's an initial spark of fury, but it's quickly extinguished by a downpour of betrayal. She isn't really angry at him, not anymore. She's just hurt.

She has found that giving her emotions weather descriptions instead of names makes them easier to deal with. It makes them physical things she can control. It helps to ground her.

Of course, Allison helps too. Although she can't speak, Allison's gentle touch and quietly pleading eyes instantly bring Vanya down from whatever storm she's riding. Every time Allison rubs her neck when she thinks people aren't watching, or opens her mouth and tries to speak before giving up, Vanya feels a current of guilt nearly sweep her away.

She could blame everything on her new powers, or on these stronger emotions she doesn't know how to deal with, but she knows that she's an adult now, and she has to take responsibility for her actions. Reginald Hargreeves, Leonard Peabody, Luther Hargreeves. They're all explanations. They're not justifications. Nothing justifies hurting people the way she has.

And her penance is due.

Learning to control her powers is part of her atonement. If she can control herself, and help her siblings survive the Apocalypse she brought on, maybe she will be absolved.

She really only cares about her image in the eyes of Allison.

Earlier, Five had navigated them around the city until they'd found the worse-for-wear library. Five had left everyone to their own devices and descended into the lower levels, where he's been for the past few hours.

Vanya peeks into the basement floor, where she finds him with his nose buried in a book, holding a pencil in one hand. Occasionally, he scribbles something on the page.

"Five?"

"Hey, Vanya." Five doesn't look up, but his posture relaxes somewhat. He might be the only one who doesn't flinch when she walks into a room.

"Hey." Vanya takes a seat beside him. She peers over his shoulder.

The page is covered in tiny grey marks. How he can even see them is beyond her. He grips his pencil tightly, fingers white around the wood.

"How's your training going?" Five asks, still not looking her.

"Good. Diego's been teaching me to throw things, mostly knives."

Five chuckles. "What exactly did you expect?"

"I don't know. It's easier when my target is a building and not my deceased brother."

At that, Five glances up, meeting her eyes briefly, before training his gaze on the book. "Ben hasn't changed a bit, huh? Unlike the rest of us."

"He seemed more sarcastic, or maybe I've just never noticed it."

"Yeah, Ben's always had amazing dry humor. I learned it from him." Five barely, just barely shifts toward Vanya, bringing them closer together.

A smile tugs at her lips. "He was so kindhearted. I feel bad for what happened to him."

"I could've saved him," Five says bitterly. He sighs. "But the past is behind us, in Ben's words."

"You talked to him?"

"Yeah. Klaus insisted."

Five's pen scratches against paper, the only sound aside from their voices. Vanya settles into the comfortable silence. After a few moments, Five speaks again.

"I didn't want to see Ben, you know?" he says, visibly swallowing. "Thought he'd hate me. He has every right, and so do you, after what I did."

Does Vanya hate him? She isn't sure. For leaving her alone, maybe she resents him a little bit, like a rock being thrown into a lake. But she doesn't hate him. Hate is a detonation. What she feels is... more of a pop. Like those little fireworks you throw at your feet on the Fourth of a July. Her tiny pops of resentment are easily doused by the ice-cold shower of relief. There's something else too, and it expands and swells inside of her like a balloon, carrying her off her feet.

_Love_, she realizes. She loves her brother more than she resents him.

"I don't hate you," she tells him firmly. "I'm relieved you're back. None of us hate you. We've all made mistakes; some of us worse than others. If anyone deserves to be hated, it's definitely not you."

Five laughs quietly. "Thanks. I almost don't know what to do with all this sudden... support, I guess."

A breeze of sadness whistles in her ears. It breaks her heart to know that Five is so unaccustomed to being loved that he assumes everyone hates him.

But Vanya doesn't know how to comfort people. So she just sits and listens to him work, occasionally inching to the side until she's leaning against him, and his arm shifts to touch hers.

"I missed you," she whispers. She doesn't remember how much she's said it, but she knows she hasn't said it enough.

Five's laugh is less bitter this time around. "You too, Vanya."

* * *

It doesn't take Allison long to find Luther.

He's tasked himself with finding food and other supplies for the rest of them, so when she hears a faint "shit" from the upper floor of the library and something falling over, she knows she's found him.

Burned remains of books are scattered all over the floor, with Luther vainly trying to shove them back into the shelves. It would've been endearing a few weeks ago.

She taps the wall to get his attention. He looks up and promptly drops the books in his arms.

"Allison, shit," Luther mutters, swiping a book off the ground. "I was trying to walk through and it just kinda—" He gestures vaguely.

Allison nods. Since Five decided to pick a library as his next hideout, there's paper everywhere. She holds a poetry book, one with a lot of blank space, and a pencil.

"What's up?" he asks.

_WE NEED TO TALK._

"About what?"

Allison fights to keep her expression neutral.

_US._

"W-What?" Luther shifts his weight, frowning slightly.

_WE DON'T WORK._

_I CAN'T FORGIVE YOU FOR THE THINGS YOU'VE DONE._

"But you forgave Vanya," he protests.

_MY FAULT._

_YOU DIDN'T LISTEN TO ME._

_WENT BEHIND MY BACK._

_DIDN'T LET ME HELP._

_CAN'T FORGIVE._

"Allison, I didn't know what else to do. She was going to end the world. She _did_."

_BECAUSE OF YOU._

_AND THIS ISN'T THE ONLY REASON._

_WE WERE KIDS GOING THROUGH TRAUMA AT THE SAME TIME._

_WE SOUGHT RELIEF IN EACH OTHER._

_THAT ISN'T LOVE._

_THAT'S DEPENDENCE._

_THAT'S RELIANCE._

"What are you saying?" Luther manages, and the look in his eyes only steels Allison's resolve.

_WE DON'T LOVE EACH OTHER._

_I LOVED PATRICK._

_I LOVE CLAIRE._

_AND I LOVE YOU AS MY BROTHER._

"Allison—" Luther cuts himself off. He trains his gaze somewhere on the ground, a range of emotions crossing his face.

_FIND SOMETHING ELSE TO DEPEND ON._

And with that, Allison snaps her book closed and marches out.

It hadn't been easy for her to come this conclusion. She had to overlook everything they'd shared as kids, searching for the very root of the issue, the origin point. And she stumbled upon Reginald Hargreeves.

It was only expected for children to handle a certain amount of trauma before breaking, and around ten years old was theirs. They turned to each other for comfort, for understanding, and they leaned on each other their entire lives. This dependence was really what they'd mistaken for romance.

But she didn't love him. Not in the way she'd thought.

They're screwed up siblings, ruined by their father in more ways than one, and everyone needs time to cope. She understands that. But her and Luther can't use each other to cope anymore. Romantic love isn't the only kind out there. She can love Luther as a brother and their bond won't be any less strong.

They all need to be a family again. She knows this is the only way they'll ever heal what Reginald Hargreeves shredded apart. And pursuing this fantasy isn't helpful for anyone.

Luther will come around. He'll see reason.

He has to.

* * *

Since everyone had taken on new, unspoken jobs in the Apocalypse, it'd been difficult for Five to get everyone in one place.

Allison and Luther can be seen walking around the library, scouting for supplies, while Diego, Klaus, and Vanya leave every day for Vanya's training. Klaus summons Ben sometimes and he follows them around.

It's almost normal.

But who's counting?

Once he has everyone in one place, however, it's easy to make himself the center of attention. Their eyes snap to the walls and the equations, and he can see their worry clearly. He also knows it's probably warranted. But eh, he'll be fine once he's not here.

"What's this about, Five?" Diego asks, breaking the silence.

Five yanks himself out of his thoughts. "I've decided on the ideal time to go when I figure out how to factor your weight into the equations."

"... elaborate?" Klaus pipes up. He's sitting on the floor, peering up at Five. Five wonders how he still manages to look high even when he's sober.

"We need to jump to a time before Allison's injury, but after I take up a job at the Commission. I was thinking of when I interrupted your family meeting about... you know, everyone dying in the Apocalypse."

"Won't that mess things up?" Klaus asks. "I mean, I thought there was this whole big fuss about breaking the timeline and changing events. Isn't that like a huge no-no in the time travel rulebook?"

"Not exactly." When Five realizes this is going to turn into a long explanation because sadly, he can't just transfer his knowledge of time to everyone, he gestures for everyone to take a seat. "Time isn't linear. Not in the way you comprehend it, at least. We see time as linear because that's how our lives are. We live in a linear dimension. But time is more like..."

They all wait patiently for him find the right words.

"Let's pretend time is a sapling," Five decides to say. "As soon as it starts growing, it begins to branch off, with new stems and branches growing from every available inch of space before it's even reached adulthood. Then, these branches grow new sprouts, and so on and so forth, with every new sprout a new timeline branching off from the original. By the time this tree is fully grown, you can't see the original tree because there are so many alternate timelines growing from it, breaking off when something changes."

He pauses to gauge their reactions. They seem to mostly understand. Oh well. This is the best he's gonna get.

"Now, every single decision we make creates a new timeline. This means, when I bring us back to the past, it'll break off into a brand new timeline. Different versions of us exist in every timeline, which is how I was able to harness the energy of my alternate selves and transport myself back to the past. Instead of creating a ripple effect with the time travel, we'll sort of... replace our past selves. Because we can only exist once in each timeline."

After a long stretch of silence, Vanya says, "so basically, you'll just be splitting us into a different timeline where we already exist? And we can't interfere with this timeline's past-us in any way?"

Five almost shuts her down immediately, preparing to tell her how she's wrong, but then he realizes that she's actually correct. "That's right. I'll sort of be removing us from this current timeline and jumping to another one where we already exist, so we can't necessarily change anything. Everything happens the way it's meant to happen. The Commission never seemed to understand this concept."

"Well, that makes no sense," Diego says, "but you've always known more than the rest of us about this time stuff. So I trust you."

"I think I get what you're saying." Klaus taps his chin. "Confusing, but I think I get it."

Allison's paper rustles as she writes something down, then holds it up for Five to see.

_WE TRUST YOU._

"Thanks," Five says.

"How long do you think this will take?" Luther asks. He and Allison are on opposite sides of the room, determinedly avoiding each other's eyes. Five doesn't ask.

"I need to figure out how your powers add to your weight and also find the right folds to jump through," Five replies, "so longer than I would like, but sooner than the forty-five years it took me last time."

Luther nods, accepting his answer.

"Oh, and uh," Klaus speaks up from the floor, "Ben says he's on board, even if your explanation is convoluted and impossible to logically assess."

"Thanks, Ben," Five says, rolling his eyes. "Don't pretend like you could do better."

Ben only appears for an instant in a flash of blue, but Five can clearly see him making a very rude hand gesture.

"He's probably just grumpy that you're still beating him as the smartest of the group, even seventeen years later."

Everyone laughs a bit at that. Although Allison can only smile, her eyes twinkle with mirth.

"I only have one complaint," Klaus says. "Can we land someplace where I'm not drunk or high? I don't really want to go through withdrawal again."

Five searches his memories for a good time to jump. "What about... when you told me and Luther that Dad killed himself?"

Vanya makes a choked noise. "_What?"_

Diego splutters, and Allison's eyes go wide in shock.

Biting his lip guiltily, Klaus says, "um, yeah, sorry to break it to you all, but dear old Dad had Pogo and Mom help him. He said it was to bring us all together again."

"He's right," Luther puts in. "Pogo told us."

Vanya looks away at the mention of Pogo.

"Sick bastard," Diego mutters, shaking his head.

"Can we discuss this at a different time?" Five says, opening his book filled with equations. "That is, if you want me to pull us out of this shithole."

"Right, right, everyone give our little bro space," Klaus announces, herding the group out like many armed, emotionally abused cats. He shuts the door with a wink.

Five smiles slightly to himself. Some things never change.


	8. Que sera, sera

Diego narrows his eyes at a window in the distance. He's currently crouching atop the library balcony, the only one that isn't completely destroyed. A knife fits neatly in his hand, silver and glinting in the strange, constant red sunlight that cast eerie shadows over everything.

Adjusting his grip, he raises the knife above his head, staring intently at the window, before launching it as hard as he can.

It spins through the air at breakneck speed, curving around any obstacles and whistling over the street before impaling itself in the brick building, inches from the actual window.

Dammit.

He whips out another knife to try again.

A gust of wind carries with it acrid smoke, making his eyes water. He coughs and lifts his shirt to cover his mouth. Fire burns as far as the eye can see, creating rippling beacons against a hazy horizon. This place really is horrible. He can understand why Five would want to leave as soon as possible.

Behind him, Klaus hangs upside-down from the dangerously-leaning railing, chatting quietly with Ben, his hands glowing blue. Ben sits next to him, looking normal besides the faint blue light surrounding him.

Diego still can't believe that Klaus has been seeing Ben all this time. He'd tried to tell them as kids, but they never believed him. Diego can't stop the pang of guilt that hits him.

He and Ben were never very close as kids. Ben always preferred to stick with Klaus or Five, and Diego hung out with Allison and Luther. Even at a young age, they formed cliques and groups within their own family. Is that normal? He isn't sure.

But still. Ben helped him with his stutter when Mom couldn't. He always stuck up for everyone, even at the expense of himself.

When he died, they'd all mourned him.

"Ben says your aim sucks!" Klaus calls up to him.

Diego can't decide if Klaus is joking or not, because honestly, passive-aggressive insults were always Ben's strong suit.

"I do not!" Ben says.

Gritting his teeth, Diego's grip tightens on his knife. Ben's voice still makes him jump. It's so strange and foreign after all these years.

"It's the wind," Diego replies, squinting into the smoke. "Visibility is low. Makes it difficult."

"I think you're just losing your touch."

Diego glances down at Klaus, who's arms are now dangling below his head.

"Why should I take advice from someone who's about to have really bad vertigo in a few minutes?" Diego asks.

"Hey, I don't appreciate your sass, mister Kraken sir. That reminds me. Why is your name The Kraken when we literally have a brother who can summon tentacle monsters?"

"That is odd," Ben agree.

"I can hold my breath," Diego replies.

"You should be called... The Curve or something. Maybe The Knife. Or The Vigilante." Klaus pulls himself up, blinking rapidly. "Ahh. The world's spinning, Diego."

"I told you not to hang upside-down," Ben mutters. "But do you ever listen to me? No."

"Shhh." Klaus manages to tumble off the railing, landing in a heap on the scorched floor.

"Idiot. With love," Ben adds, seeing Klaus' pout.

Diego smiles slightly to himself, listening to them bantering. Just like old times. He looks back out over the wasteland, trying to pinpoint where his knife landed. It takes him a moment to realize he can no longer see the distant building. A strange haze engulfs the land, slowly encroaching on their street. It's a massive dusty fog, consuming everything in sight.

Barely a second after he notices this, Five appears beside him, looking panicked.

"We have to go!" Five urges, gesturing downstairs. "Come on, we need to get to the basement _right now_."

"What's happening?" Klaus asks. Ben hauls him to his feet, and the group runs down the treacherous steps, Five leading them. Allison stands by the basement door, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Get in," Five snaps. He shoves them unceremoniously into the basement, despite Klaus' muted protests. A faint wind has begun to stir up around them, sending dust and smoke billowing through the library.

With a groan and a creak, Five yanks the basement door shut and locks it to the best of his ability.

"Luther," Five orders. "Stand in front of the door. Make sure it stays shut."

"What is going on?" Vanya asks.

Luther obeys Five and presses his great bulk against the wood, securing it.

"Sandstorm," Five answers. "I almost forgot how fast they can form. Weather patterns all around the globe were disrupted by the moon collision, so winds are worse in this area. The dust and smoke gets so thick it's unbreathable. I had to learn after almost suffocating in my first one."

Off to the side, Klaus looks uneasy. Vanya rubs her arms anxiously.

"Won't we be locking ourselves in?" Diego asks. "Shouldn't we be trying to get out of range?"

"It moves too fast. You'd be choking on ash the moment you stepped outside."

The wind begins howling outside the door, along with a rustling noise that must be the dust. Diego shudders to imagine the sort of fate Five describes.

"How long do these usually last?" Vanya asks.

Five just picks up his book and sits down, like nothing has changed. "Oh, you know. Any time from a few hours to days."

"Days?" Klaus tips back his head and groans.

"I once spent a week holed up in someone's bunker without food, so I think you'll be fine for a couple hours," Five bites out.

Diego is eternally grateful that, beforehand, someone had piled up canned food and water in the corner of the basement. At least they won't starve to death.

Everyone settles in to wait.

A while into the sandstorm, Klaus starts pacing. Ben vanishes from sight. Vanya nods off. Luther leans heavily against the door, acting as a barricade. Five scribbles on his paper endlessly. Diego throws knives into the air, only to curve them back into his hand.

Five has been scarce for the past few days. At any given time, he can be found holed up in the basement, calculating the logistics of time travel. Just thinking about the idea of doing all that math makes Diego's head hurt. Five really only appears to grab some food or water, but other than that, he's basically a ghost.

Ha. That makes two of them.

Diego steals glances at Five occasionally. Once, they make eye contact, and Five's lips twitch with the barest trace of a smile before it's gone.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, the wind dies to a murmur, and Five tells Luther he can move from the door.

"Stand back," Five warns, before easing the door open.

Instantly, a blast of ash and smoke billows into the room, sending everyone into coughing fits. Five waves the dust away and peers into the library.

"Well, it looks like shit, but I think the storm is over." He steps aside to let them leave.

Diego is the first one out. The library is an absolute wreck. Ash and dust coats the floor in a thick layer, while smoke hangs over the area, worsening the already-crap air quality. If visibility was low before, it's nonexistent now. Diego can't see more than three feet in front of him.

"How often did this happen to you?" Diego asks Five, frowning in disbelief.

"More times than I can count on both hands." Five gives him a lopsided smile. "You learn to adapt. Hopefully I can get us out before another one hits. I had to relocate _so_ many times because of sandstorms."

"Damn," Klaus comments.

Diego doesn't disagree.

* * *

After the sandstorm incident a few hours earlier, Five decides to take a walk. It's a spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment sort of decision, and he informs only Vanya before taking off.

The street is a scarily familiar sight. Choked with ash and smoke, he wades through the sandstorm aftermath, tearing a piece of his shirt to cover his mouth and nose. He hates how he feels more at home here than he ever did at his dad's house.

Klaus was right. He needs a break, however brief.

He makes it to the end of the street before an uneasy feeling settles in his chest. He pulls out one of Diego's knives, holding it blatantly in one hand, daring anyone to attack him.

And unfortunately, he knows exactly who it is.

"I thought sneaking around wasn't your style," Five calls out. His voice bounces off buildings and echoes back to him.

Silence. His grip tightens on the knife.

"Perhaps it wasn't," a silky smooth voice finally replies, "but oh, all things adapt and change, Number Five."

From around the corner, The Handler steps into view. But...

... it isn't her.

The stranger regards him with detached curiosity, green eyes bright and startlingly intense. She wears a slim blue dress that cuts off at her knees, her dark skin a stark contrast to the pastel color. She holds a black briefcase in one hand.

Five points his knife at her warily. "Who are you?"

"The Handler," she says smoothly. "Not the one you are familiar with, no, but as I'm sure my predecessor made explicitly clear, everyone is replaceable. Surely you didn't expect to get away with all the trouble you caused us?"

"She's dead?" Five laughs shortly. "Finally. Never thought I'd be rid of the bitch."

The Handler tilts her head. "Let us not disrespect the legacy of those who are no longer with us. I come here in terms of peace."

"Ha. Yeah, and I'm not going to stab you as soon as you make your intentions known."

"I've always found violence so... distasteful." The Handler clicks her tongue at him. "Of course, that would make me a hypocrite, given the nature of my organization."

"What do you want?"

"I've arrived to offer you a deal." She takes a step forward; he takes one back. "You were our most valuable asset. However, it is no longer in our best interests to allow you another job opportunity. Betray us once, a fluke, betray us twice, shame on us, and betray us thrice... well, you understand the consequences of such a crime."

"Just get on with it," Five snaps.

"We do not wish to offer you another job. Instead, we will allow you to stay here with your family, in exchange for, to put in simply..." She smiles, but it's cold. "... never bothering us again. Never cause trouble for my organization again, and you can live out your days here in peace."

"I wasn't planning on staying here," Five tells her. "No deal. I'm going to take my family to the past, and you will not stop me, or else they'll have to find a third replacement."

The Handler breezes by his open threat. "I see. Jumping to an alternate timeline is ingenious, I must admit."

"What?" Five says, surprised. "You know about the dimensions theory? I thought I was the only one who-"

"You _were_," she interrupts. "I am perhaps the only other person in this timeline who understands that what is done, is done. _Que sera, sera._"

The phrase makes him shudder, but he hides it quickly. "Maybe your predecessor was right. I couldn't stop the Apocalypse, but I can save my family. You can't stop me."

"Oh, I know. Number Five, the boy genius, the legend, the prodigy. Not for one moment do I entertain the fanciful notion of suspending you from your goal." The Handler laces her fingers together. "I am from a division you may not be familiar with, so I won't bother with bureaucratic titles. All you need to know is that I am now both the head of my division and of the case managers, which places me in a very special spot of high power. I could ruin you if I was so inclined." Her voice takes on a dangerous edge, but her sweet words mask it. "However, I recognize when one must capitulate. I will allow you to travel to an alternate timeline, under the terms that you will not interfere with anything outside of this new timeline. My division will be monitoring you and ensuring you remain right where you belong."

"And if I don't?"

"Well, then..." The Handler's unnatural, shimmering green eyes pierce him like a butterfly to a corkboard. "Appropriate punishments will be carried out swiftly in accordance with the severity of your infraction."

If she means to unsettle him, it works. Five covers up his growing anxiety with an arrogant front. "This deal sounds disproportionately skewed in my favor. You wouldn't be offering this unless you had an ulterior motive."

The Handler smiles frostily. "I simply want you out of my hair and out of my Commission. I also admire your ambition, and I've held a strong respect for you over the years. It is only this respect that is keeping me from terminating you and your family. I suggest you accept the deal before I change my mind."

He doesn't tuck it away completely, but he does loosen his grip on the knife. "And what are your final terms, plain and simple?"

"You and your family remain in the timeline you relocate to. No more unauthorized time travel. You consult me before testing the limits of your abilities. You do not allow your family to interfere with this deal or the terms. Searching for a loophole or violating these terms will result in both you and your family's prompt termination." She scoops up her briefcase once more, her smile fading to a faint smirk. She's won, and she knows it. "Are we clear?"

"... crystal." Five reluctantly sheathes his weapon. He's been offered the deal of a century, and he'd be a fool to disregard the incredibly fair terms she's laid out.

"Lovely." The Handler moves towards him and he moves back, but she only fishes a capsule out of her pocket and holds it out for him to take. "If you require anything, give me a call." And with that, she casts him once last triumphant look before snapping open the briefcase and vanishing.

Well, looks like her predecessor was right after all.

_Que sera, sera._


	9. Time travel attempt numero uno

The impromptu sandstorm yesterday has made things much more difficult on the Hargreeves family. With Klaus' unofficial job as food scouter person, the sudden coating of ash over everything is very much irritating to sift through.

Now, he kneels in a pile of dust and sand, digging through the debris for stuff they might need.

"Canned food, water, medical supplies," Ben says, ticking the items off his fingers. "Maybe some new clothes?"

"I highly, _highly_ doubt I'm going to find anything 'new' here."

The ghosts from a few days ago are still here. The woman, and the young boy. Klaus has mostly ignored them, which resulted in a one-sided screaming match with the woman's jaw unhinged and unholy screeching bursting free of her dead vocal cords. Klaus had excused himself and sternly told the ghost to shut the hell up or he wouldn't help her.

"Everything is destroyed," the little boy tells him.

"I know," Klaus replies stiffly. "But Five lived here for forty-five years, so I'm sure we can live here for a couple weeks."

Though he says this, he doesn't believe it. There is a constant ache in his stomach, and he can no longer breathe without tasting ash. Everyone has been dissolving into coughing fits recently, Five included. The first time Diego doubled over coughing, he spat blood on the ground. Five had turned white.

The next day, Five had left and returned with thick scraps of cloth. He'd told them they needed to wear it at all times.

So now, Klaus tightens the cloth around his mouth, using it as a filter for the poisonous air. Ben isn't using one, 'cause he's a ghost. Obviously.

"I'm tired of this place," Klaus grumbles to no one in particular, kicking at a pile of ash.

"And I'm tired of your whining," Ben shoots back, "but you don't see me complaining."

"You're complaining right now." Klaus triumphantly pulls out a ragged, worse-for-wear shirt from under the rubble, shuddering to think about who it might've belonged to. What person wore this shirt? What sort of life did they lead?

Oh well. They're dead now.

"Do you think it's wise to take things from dead people?" Ben says. "I mean, there's a whole lotta ghosts out here, and I'm sure more than a few of them would be upset to find you're stealing from them."

"At this point, everything was owned by a dead person. I'll take my chances with a shirt."

He doesn't really know how long they stay out there, foraging for scraps in the burning rubble, but eventually, his arms are full and the ghosts' whining has increased in volume. The woman is mostly quiet at first, but she begins to chant in some harsh, guttural language like Russian, or maybe German. He doesn't care. It's really annoying. The little boy steps in his path occasionally, blinking owlishly at him, big round eyes set into a horribly ruined face.

Yeah, no doubt about it. This is Hell.

"Okay!" he announces suddenly, silencing the woman. "We're going back now, and if you're quiet on the way there, I'll... I don't know, Ben, what can I do for them?"

"You could try and work on making them corporeal," Ben suggests. "Like you can do for me."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do that. Happy?"

The woman nods a bit. She wraps her arm around the boy, and the two fall silent.

Thank God.

Actually, don't. God's a preteen girl who doesn't like Klaus. So maybe thank the devil.

"Digressing," he mutters to himself.

When they reach the library, something's different. Everyone is gathered out front, which isn't necessarily odd, except Five is with them. Huh. Five has been scarce for the past almost-week. Always holed up in the basement, scribbling in those books, eyes narrowed in concentration. But he's not doing well, and Klaus can tell by the dark circles beneath his eyes and the hollowness of his cheekbones. He's thinner, too, and his limp hasn't gotten any better. Two shrapnel wounds will do that to you.

Once, when he must have not thought anyone was looking, Klaus saw Five rub his eyes harshly, lips tugged into a deep frown, closing his eyes with a pained expression. His shoulders slumped and something like hopelessness crossed his face before vanishing, covered up by grim determination.

It's the look of someone who's on the brink of falling apart.

Klaus would know. He's seen it enough in the mirror.

"What's the occasion?" Klaus calls out. A few heads turn in his direction, but most of them are concentrated on Five. "Guys?"

"Ah, glad you could join us, Klaus," Five says. "I'm going to try something, but there are no guarantees, so don't get your hopes up."

Too late. The idea of finally getting out of here is enough to make Klaus' hopes soar. Even Ben smiles.

"Okay," Five says. He holds his book in one hand, staring at the incomprehensible equations. Then his hands curl into fists. A faint, rippling blue sheen buzzes around his hands, like he's pushing against some sort of barrier. He presses his fists forward, and the air crackles with ozone, resisting him. His jaw tightens. "Come on. Dammit, come on." The air hisses and pops against his pushing, but Klaus can see his fingers beginning to sink into the blue folds. Five's face lights up. "Yes. Yes!"

Everyone quickly gathers around him, linking themselves together, ensuring everyone is touching so no one will be left behind.

For a long moment, it seems like Five is really about to pull them out.

But then, the blue rift begins to pulse and crackle with electricity, and Five's expression morphs into one of desperation.

"No!" Five cries, straining against the rapidly closing window, and Klaus feels his hopes shatter against the ground. "NO, DAMMIT!"

_Pop!_

Five's hands spark blue and the rift snaps closed, sending Five tumbling backwards with the force of it. He hits the ground just as the blue light fades away completely.

"Shit!" Five hisses, scrambling to his feet. He lurches forward unsteadily, hands passing through thin air. "No, no, dammit, no!"

"Five," Vanya says gently. She reaches for him.

"Don't touch me," he snarls, smacking away her attempts at comfort. He shoves his fists into the air, weak blue ripples buzzing around his hands before fizzling into nothing. He does it again and again, jamming his hands harshly into the folds, panting heavily, strings and strings of curses falling from his lips.

No one stops him. Klaus doubts that he would even let anyone.

"Dammit, this can't be happening," Five gasps out. His fingers thread into his hair and yank at the unruly black strands, sheer terror glittering in his eyes.

"Five, it's okay—" Vanya tries to say, but Five shakes his head.

"It's not, it's not okay, I can't do this anymore, I can't spend another goddamn day—"

Klaus takes his older-yet-younger brother by the shoulders and holds him still. Five's breathing hitches.

"Hey, buddy," Klaus whispers. He's never been good at comforting, but Ben quietly instructs him on the right things to say. "You can try again. Trial and error. We're not mad at you."

Five relaxes for a split second before roughly shoving Klaus away, expression twisted into a haunted grimace. "Get your hands off me." Then he spins on his heel and storms back to the library, vanishing into the basement. The door slams behind him.

A long beat of silence hangs in the air, and then Diego lets out a sigh.

"That went well."

* * *

Allison tries to see Five after the botched time travel attempt, but the door remains securely locked. She knocks one more time. Silence.

Sighing, she turns to walk away.

A few feet away, hovering around the corner, is Luther. He wrings his hands awkwardly, shifting his weight.

She raises an eyebrow, as if to ask, 'what?'

"Can I talk to you?" he says quietly.

Her pen clicks as she uncaps it and writes, _I HAVEN'T CHANGED MY MIND._

"I know. And I'm not going to try and make you. I just wanted..." Luther trails off and exhales slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't see it before, and I'm sorry if you ever felt like I was pushing things. You made a good point about Dad and trauma and all that. I get it. I understand. It's just hard because we never learned what love was supposed to be and I've never... I don't know how to deal with things I can't control, and I know I've made shitty decisions, but..."

Allison picks at the cover of her book, listening to him.

"I love you, Allison," Luther tells her firmly. "You're my sister, and I love you. I just wish I'd known how to deal with my pain instead of creating this false romance. So, I'm sorry, and I love you, and I just want us to be a normal family again."

After a moment, Allison scribbles something on her page.

_I THINK THAT'S DOABLE. NORMAL? NOT SO MUCH._

Luther chuckles, and Allison allows herself a smile.

"So we're okay? We're not pursuing this weird thing anymore?"

_YES._

_I DO LOVE YOU AS MY BROTHER. SORRY IF I WAS HARSH EARLIER._

"Nah, I needed to hear it like that. Or read it, I guess."

They share another brief laugh. And in that moment, Allison dearly hates Reginald Hargreeves and everything he did to them. To seven children, desperate to love, desperate to please. Seven emotionally vulnerable children who were unfortunate enough to be gifted with special powers.

_DAD REALLY FUCKED US UP._

"... yeah." Luther nods, although it must pain him to badmouth their father. "Yeah, he did."

_WE'LL BE BETTER._

_WE'LL TRY TO BE BETTER._

"We will," Luther agrees. "Together. As a family."

And that's all that really matters in the end, right? That they're together. That they're a family. And they can make it through whatever this shitty world throws at them because they're dysfunctional and messy and temperamental and a _unit,_ and nothing their father or the Apocalypse or anything else can do will bring them down.

The Umbrella Academy has never been a team.

It has always been a family.

And Allison will be damned if she ever lets anything tear her family apart again.


	10. Apocalypse Life with the Hargreeves

More days pass. Five can no longer be seen, even on brief trips outside. Allison and Diego have formed an unspoken alliance in which they force Five to eat and take breaks, even though his constant glaring could melt glass. Allison's bitchface is pretty strong too, though.

Luther fortifies the library in case another sandstorm blows through, or an additional threat becomes known. No one mentions the shooters at Vanya's concert, but the worry is still present.

Klaus spends most of his time doing little exercises with Ben and the other ghosts, testing the limits of his new powers.

On occasion, Vanya will seek out Klaus to train together. She enjoys their sessions of playful banter, and by the way Klaus has begun finding her first, he's enjoying them too.

Ben appears sometimes, his sarcasm and sharp wit a stark reminder of the intelligent boy he was before Reginald Hargreeves took away the rest of his life. Vanya soaks up her time with him like a sponge.

"It's weird to be seen," Ben admits one night. "I'm used to making comments and stuff, but now I say something and someone hears it, and then they're offended."

"Luther, you mean?" Vanya jokes.

Both Ben and Klaus dissolve into a fit of laughter.

One day, when Five collapses abruptly, they all quickly find out that he's been disguising the true extent of his shrapnel injury. Allison and Diego promptly force him to lay down until they've cleared him. Vanya can almost feel his irritation through the walls.

Vanya progresses from throwing chunks of debris to smaller things, working on accuracy and precision. Diego lends her a few knives to fling through the air, helping her hit different targets until she's almost as good as him. Klaus is able to summon Ben for longer and longer, and his ghostly blue presence has become a constant. As time goes on, Allison goes from being mute to speaking in halting, hoarse whispers, barely getting out a word or two before having to stop. It fills Vanya with relief.

The group slowly grows accustomed to the Apocalypse. Their clothes are always dirty and scorched, their faces perpetually grimy, and a bandanna can always be found tied around each of their faces. They look more ragtag than ever before.

Five, on the other hand, looks practically at home. His tidy appearance was really just that—an appearance. Being back at home must have pressured him to look the part of the Umbrella Academy, but now his hair is a constantly tousled mess, and his face is smudged with dirt. He doesn't seem to mind the untidiness.

On the contrary, Vanya has tried everything she can to stay clean, or at least feel clean. She doesn't waste water—Five would kill her—and a change of clothes is a bit difficult to come by, but she finds a broken hairbrush and uses it to comb out her tangles. Klaus borrows it and does the same.

She finds him preening in the only mirror in the library, tugging at the knots in his hair and grimacing.

"You look like a cat giving itself a bath," Vanya comments.

Klaus hisses at her.

"I think he's more of a bird of paradise," Ben says, lounging nearby and smirking. "Something got your feathers rustled, dear brother of mine?"

"I liked it better when only _I_ could hear you," Klaus grumbles. "Then you guys can't gang up on me."

A few hours later, he walks out of the library, looking no less shabby than before.

"I thought you were cleaning up?" Vanya says with one eyebrow raised.

"I _did _clean up!" Klaus cries. "My hair is artfully tousled!"

"Klaus' hair walks the thin line between 'artfully tousled' and 'rat's nest'," Ben pipes up.

Klaus punches him in the arm. "One good thing about you being solid is that I can _finally_ shove you when you annoy me."

"I'm merely stating the truth."

"You just don't understand the gay lifestyle. Vanya knows what I mean, right sis?"

Vanya snickers and nods.

The next day, Vanya adds a tally to the cluster at the base of the library door. Eight days. Over a week of the Apocalypse. A really sucky week, but overall not as utterly nightmarish as Five painted it. But then again, Five was thirteen, and alone. Everything worse when you're alone.

Luther takes her aside that day, and she has to clamp down the rising fear inside of her. She still isn't comfortable being around him. Their eyes narrowed in suspicion, both Diego and Klaus watch from a distance, making sure nothing happens. It gives her some courage.

"I never apologized for what I did," Luther mutters, shuffling his feet. "I guess I just lost sight of what a leader is. I should've listened to you instead of jumping to conclusions. I'm sorry."

Vanya gulps. She glances to the side, where Klaus gives her an encouraging thumbs-up, then mimes slitting someone's throat and points at Luther. The message is clear: _I'll kill him if he hurts you._

"Thank you," Vanya says quietly. "I appreciate it. I'm not ready to forgive you yet, but I know you're trying, so thank you."

Luther nods, like he expected that. "Thank you for letting me try."

The weight eases from her shoulders.

On the ninth day, Klaus absently ruffles her hair like a classic big brother, and she feels her heart swell with love. Diego's words go from accusing to teasing. Five—on the rare occasions he's visible—begins to treat her more like a sister, and not like a nice stranger living under the same roof.

God, she loves her family.

She wonders how she'd ever lived without the feeling before.

* * *

Five opens his eyes to darkness. The ceiling isn't visible. There's the unmistakable scent of smoke and ash hanging in the air.

Something inside him seizes with terror.

Five scrambles to his feet and wrenches open the door. His family is sleeping on the floor, curled into themselves and terribly silent. Luther clutches a bloody eyeball in his hand.

"Diego," Five whispers, shaking his brother to wake him. "Diego?"

He rolls Diego over to find his eyes open but unseeing, his mouth agape and his expression twisted with fear.

Then Five realizes his family is not asleep, but dead.

"No," Five moans, tripping over himself to escape, slamming into the wall and when he turns around the Handler's icy hands are waiting for him, her piercing eyes drilling right through to his soul. A pen sits in his hands, but then it's a gun and he's on a job, torturing someone innocent for the sake of the timeline.

Then his own shaky hand lifts the cold gun barrel to his temple and pulls the trigger.

Five opens his eyes to darkness. _Just a nightmare,_ he assures himself.

He yanks open the door. His family is sleeping on the floor again, and Luther clutches a bloody eyeball again. He shakes Diego to wake him again, and again, he finds Diego's expression twisted with fear. Again, he realizes his family is not asleep, but dead.

He wakes up endlessly, again, and again, and again, each time watching his family's dead-and-not-sleeping bodies grow cold on the floor, each time spinning helplessly into the Handler's grasp. He shakes Diego endless times, tortures people endless times, endlessly shoots himself in the head. He is forever lost, spiraling in the darkness of his nightmare, surrounded by broken screams and bloodied eyeballs that seem to be staring right at him.

A quiet sobbing burns the scene away as he jolts awake, fingers digging into the hard concrete floor, chest heaving. It takes him a moment to realize that _he_ is the person crying.

Five scrubs the tears from his eyes, panting, then wrenches the door open.

His family is scattered across the floor, silent, but it not dead silent. Their shoulders rise and fall slowly.

"Diego," Five chokes out, shaking his brother.

Diego's eyes flutter open. He blinks blearily at Five. "What...?"

"Thank God," Five whispers. He rocks back on his heels, exhausted from his nightmare. "Thank _God_."

"What's going on, Five?" Diego asks. "Are you okay?"

Now the others are stirring too. Allison sits up, rubbing her eyes, while Klaus yawns.

"Nothing's wrong," Five says. He pushes himself to his feet, shakes off their questions, and shuts the basement door behind him. Only then does he allow himself to exhale shakily, the echoes of his nightmare fading into the back of his mind.

He's terrified that one day, he will never truly wake up, lost in endless dark tunnels and the screams of those he's killed his only company.

The nightmares have gotten significantly worse each day they spend in the Apocalypse. He was already struggling with his sanity in the past timeline, but now, back in the place that had haunted him every step of the way, it's been impossible to sleep well. He can't even bring himself to fully close the basement door, not wanting to be alone in the dark.

"Fuck," he hisses to himself, closing his eyes. His shrapnel wound aches from the sudden movement.

Dammit, he's hungry, tired, and hurting, and all he wants to do is go home. He feels more like a child than ever before as his eyes begin to burn.

He slides to the ground, back pressed against the wall, and maps out the room to ground himself. Four corners. One door. Three dirty canteens of water. Six cans of food. One flashlight. One shiny bronze capsule.

The capsule. A gift from The Handler.

_"If you require anything, give me a call."_

He imagines what he would write on the slip of paper she'd left for him.

_I need sleeping pills. I need antibiotics. I need a briefcase._

God, he wants a briefcase so badly. They're miniature versions of his own powers, except they make it much, much easier to travel through time. They don't have to calculate probability and weight. Downsides to being a person—however intelligent.

For a moment, he almost gives in. He actually picks up the pen and bends over the paper before stopping himself.

He can't go crawling to the Commission every time something gets difficult. He needs to be able to handle his issues alone, or, at the very least, with his family. The Commission has been his crutch for too long.

But he doesn't get rid of the paper. He carefully rolls it up and screws the lid back on the capsule, physically setting up a boundary between him and the temptation. He will figure out how to save them.

And he doesn't need the goddamn Commission to do it for him.

... still. It's fine to have a backup plan in case everything goes sideways.

_Whoosh._

_Clunk._

Five's head snaps in the direction of the noise. Frowning, he pushes aside the stack of canned food and finds a small capsule, not unlike the one he's holding.

The lid clatters against the floor. Five unrolls the paper and squints at the tiny text.

_I meant to warn you. I cannot retract orders sent directly from my superiors. You and your family are still being hunted for your betrayal. I can only prepare you for the inevitable: they will find you. If you can solve the equations before then, my division will ensure your safety in the new timeline._

_\- Handler_

"Shit," Five whispers. He pockets the message and sends the capsule back.

He picks up his chalk and hurriedly scribbles out the last of his equations from yesterday. One more person to calculate, and then he should have it.

This is it. His deadline.

And time is the very last thing he wants to waste.


	11. Glitter and Gold

**Songs you should listen to while reading this:**

**Most notably 'Glitter and Gold' by Barns Courtney**

**'River' by Bishop Briggs**

**'Apologize' by grandson**

**'Blame It On The Kids' by AViVA**

**BUT DEFINITELY 'GLITTER AND GOLD', TRUST ME**

* * *

Vanya stretches and rubs her eyes, yawning. There is no such thing as a good sleep in the Apocalypse, but this is the closest to it she's going to get. At least she feels rested.

"M-Morn-ning," someone croaks nearby.

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Vanya looks up to find Allison smiling down at her.

Vanya breaks out into a grin. "You did it!"

Allison nods proudly. She helps Vanya to her feet and hugs her. After getting over her surprise, Vanya returns the gesture.

"Okay, okay, no more sappy shit," Diego mutters, waving at them vaguely.

"We all know you're a big softie inside, Diego," Klaus says. He slings an arm around Diego's neck. "You like it when Mom makes—made you smiley face pancakes."

The slip-up is tiny, but Diego catches it anyway. His smile fades and he removes himself from Klaus. Vanya swallows back her guilt.

"Hey, has anyone talked to Five this morning?" Diego asks, changing the subject.

They're all gathered in the library lobby, positioned in various places like usual. Klaus kicks up ashes idly while Ben smacks the back of his head and tells him to listen.

At Diego's question, everyone shakes their heads.

"He woke me up last night," Diego tells them. "Seemed upset. He didn't let me ask him anything."

"Well why aren't you talking to him now?" Klaus says. "Go! He's a little bugger but he's _our_ little bugger."

"Right. Right, okay." Diego sheepishly heads off to the basement. He doesn't question it when Vanya silently accompanies him. When they reach the door, Diego bangs on it a few times, calling Five's name. No answer. He exchanges a glance with Vanya and pushes the door open.

"Five?" Vanya says tentatively.

Five shoves past her and practically stabs his chalk into the wall, writing with a feverish intensity she's never seen before. His hair sticks up in all directions, he's covered in chalk and ash, and his eyes are blown wide with panic.

"Utter silence," Five hisses before turning back to his work.

"... uh, Five?" Diego questions. "You okay?"

Five ignores him. When he finishes his equation, he drops to the floor and starts another one, face screwed up in concentration.

"What's wrong, Five?" Vanya tries.

"Everything, everything is fucking wrong," he growls. His chalk snaps in half. "_Dammit_."

"Hey, I know things didn't work out when you tried to time travel a few days ago, but it's okay. You have enough time to—"

"I do _not_ have enough time!" Five shouts. He looks more frazzled then she's ever seen him, on edge and practically spitting venom with his words. "If I can't figure this out in a few hours time, all of us die!"

"W-What?"

Diego narrows his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The Handler can't retract orders and I have this goddamn capsule," Five babbles, "but it's no use because those fucking Commission soldiers are hunting us down while you're distracting me, so get the hell out before I—"

"Five!" Vanya interrupts, cutting off his rant. "Slow down. Tell us again, but slowly."

"The shooters from your concert," he says. "They're coming for us. If I can take us to the alternate timeline before they find us, we'll be safe."

"What can we do?" Diego asks.

Five pauses for a moment. He sucks in a shaky breath, then releases it. "I need you to get everyone prepared to fight. Make sure we're all ready. I just need to calculate Vanya's weight and her powers, and then I should I have it. Just give me time."

"Time," Diego confirms. "I can do that."

The next thirty minutes are somewhat hectic.

Diego and Luther begin gearing up, with Diego strapping on his knives and Luther picking up a heavy block of marble to test the weight. Allison speeds up her vocal training, although she doesn't get very far. She obviously wants to help, but without her voice, she's nearly useless. Klaus lets Ben fade out of view to replenish his strength. Vanya practices levitating and flinging different objects into the sides of buildings. Five remains in the basement, fervently scribbling on the rapidly-shrinking floor space.

"Everyone ready?" Luther says. He stands tall, as if reclaiming his position as leader.

"Define 'ready'," Klaus mutters.

"Five!" Diego calls through the door. "How we looking?"

The door swings open and nearly hits Diego. Five steps out, his hands covered in chalk and his eyes wild, but his lips are set in a determined line.

"Ready," Five tells them grimly. "Everyone—"

A bullet explodes over his head. Five ducks and scrambles to the side, shouting, "scatter!"

The Hargreeves siblings drop into sprints and bolt in all directions. Vanya takes off down the street, with Diego right beside her. He's noticeably faster, but he slows down to help Vanya keep up. A quick glance backwards and she increases her speed.

Dozens of masked soldiers race after them, bearing thick assault rifles and splitting up in trained formation to catch them. It's a terrifying sight.

"Faster!" Diego urges, his hand on her elbow to boost her forward. He sends a knife spinning through the air and stabbing through the chest of a soldier. "Vanya, those powers of yours would be really handy right now!"

"I can't—!"

How does she explain that she can't focus when she's scared? Her heart pounds in a panicked rhythm, filling her head with rapid thumping. A familiar twinge of power stirs in her chest. _It's not waking up fast enough._

"I can't do it!" she shouts in frustration.

Diego curses. He suddenly drags Vanya into a crouch, her knees scraping the asphalt painfully as they both go tumbling head-over-heels, skidding to a rough stop in a narrow alley. Bullets shred through the air where they were just running.

"Shit," Diego pants. He flings a knife out of view, and by the shout of pain that follows, it found its mark. "Can you figure out whatever equipment malfunction you're having _right now?"_

"It doesn't work that way, I'm—" Vanya cuts herself off as she catches sight of Allison at the end of the alley, waving frantically at them. "Diego, come on!"

When they reach Allison, she grabs Vanya and pulls her down the street, breaking into a run. Diego follows. A few minutes later, Luther joins them, tossing a chunk of debris as far as he can. It crashes in the middle of the soldiers, kicking up a great cloud of ash and dust that swallows them whole.

"Where's Klaus?!" Five yells, popping into view with a flash of blue.

"I don't know!" Luther shouts back. "I saw him back there!"

"Shit," Five hisses. As they dodge and duck to avoid the hail of hot metal and fire, Five tells them loudly, "there are at least thirty in this unit. Diego, Luther, and I took out a few, but there's still too many for us to handle. Vanya, got any miracles to work?"

"I don't know what's wrong," she gasps out, a stitch burning in her side. "I can't."

"Well dammit, get a handle on your powers!"

Someone screams in the distance. Vanya's chest tightens.

_Klaus._

Five vanishes in a soft _pop!_

"Follow the noise," Diego orders, and they all break formation at the same time.

Vanya darts across the street and nearly trips over a broken curb, explosions ringing in her ears as her vision swims with bullets. Her fingertips tingle. _Wake up._

_WAKE UP._

A bullet shoots over her head, narrowly missing Allison, who's fleeing ahead of her.

_Not Allison._

Vanya skids to an abrupt halt and whirls around to face her pursuers, lips curling into an ugly sneer. She lifts her chin. A vicious wind kicks up at her feet, the pounding of bullets shifting into rippling waves of energy, spinning around her in a storm of her own making. Her whole body vibrates with power. Something light and effortless wraps around her.

"Come and get me," she whispers, and the whole street explodes.

The ground beneath the Commission soldiers erupts in a massive geyser of ash and debris, shoving them into the sky like many screaming ants. Gale-force winds blow down the street and engulf everything in a cloudy haze of smoke, a single wickedly-sharp thread of white energy ripping through the air and slicing through any soldiers still standing. Bullets hang suspended in the air.

A wave of pure hate nearly sweeps Vanya off her feet.

_You don't hurt my family._

White light shines all around her, a violent tsunami of her pent-up rage and fury. From the alleyways, more soldiers pour into the street, shooting at her vain. Their bullets stop inches from her face and slingshot back, finding their marks in the hearts of those who dared to attack Vanya Hargreeves. The pounding noise increases in volume. The sky glows crimson.

She is raw strength, a wrenching hurricane, a torrential downpour of power.

She is _awake._

Dust and smoke spins around her in a dizzying tornado, but nothing ever reaches her. She is untouched in her bubble, secure and safe and alive. There are only a few shooters left. As soon as those stray bullets zoom near her, they melt upon contact with her pulsing shield of sound and energy.

Somewhere in all the chaos, she sees her siblings, watching her with slack jaws and wide eyes. Five practically beams with pride. She smiles.

"Damn" she thinks she hears Diego say.

"Control!" Five shouts, his voice nearly lost in the swirl of power surrounding her. "Control, Vanya!"

All of her lessons flash before her eyes. She wraps her mind around the core of her energy and _pulls._

The white light sucks into her skin and vanishes. The suspended bullets clatter to the ground, along with any soldiers still caught in the air. Her vision clears, and the noise fades from her ears. The wind dies to a faint breeze.

Everything goes still.

Vanya exhales.

* * *

Five picks his way through the ruined street, kicking one of the soldiers' bodies for good measure. Diego scoops his knives off the ground and yanks them out of corpses. Allison covers her mouth with one hand.

In the center of all this carnage, Vanya stands untouched, her mouth curled into a satisfied smile and her eyes bright with clarity. She watches them approach with great pride on her face.

No one speaks for a long moment.

Then Klaus remarks, "that was badass, sis."

That seems to break the spell. Vanya's shoulders slump and her familiar bashful grin replaces that strange, delighted smirk she had on before.

"Thanks," she murmurs happily.

"No, I mean it," Klaus says, bumping Ben with his elbow. "Like, shit, I thought I was cool, but fuck that was amazing. Now that we've got that out of the way, I think I'm bleeding, so if you could just—"

"Someone catch him," Five says.

Luther lunges forward and manages to catch Klaus when he collapses, clutching his shoulder.

"Bullet wound," Klaus hisses through gritted teeth. "Ouchie."

"You won't have to deal with that for long," Five tells him. "Everyone grab hands."

They're quick to obey. Five links hands with Vanya and Allison then recalls all the equations he's worked through in this past week. Everything he's done so far has been leading up to this moment. He knows the equations better than ever before.

The air begins to ripple and vibrate. Five swallows hard. He can do this.

"Get ready," Five says loudly over the pulsing of the folds.

Faint blue light shines down from the rift, descending in a wavering sheen around them. He carefully separates the folds of past and future. A low buzzing noise fills his ears as the rift shudders from the pressure, resisting his powers.

"Come on. Please," he urges.

"You can do it," Vanya tells him.

Five smiles.

The timeline strains against his hold. Painstakingly, the white-blue rift bends around them, trapping them in a bubble of energy. The air is squeezed from his lungs. His ears pop.

"Hold on!" Five shouts.

Five secures his grip on his family, grits his teeth, and jumps through the folds of spacetime.

_—here goes nothing—_


	12. Home at Last

The void spits Klaus out onto the floor of the Hargreeves kitchen. He braces himself against the tile with one arm and fights back his nausea. At the table, Luther seems to be in a similar state, rubbing his temples and groaning. Five leans heavily on the table, panting.

"Shit," Klaus grumbles. He slowly eases into a sitting position, his head knocking on the cabinet. "Ow!"

Suddenly realizing they're missing someone, Klaus jolts to his feet and closes his hands into fists, waiting in a long, terrifying moment for Ben to appear.

Then his hands sputter blue light and Ben flickers into existence, eyes wide.

"Thank Christ," Klaus breathes. "I thought I wouldn't be able to, for a second."

"Hey, your shoulder," Ben points out.

His shoulder. It's healed. His bullet wound is gone.

"Didn't Five say something about us being in the bodies we were at this time?" Klaus says, rubbing his shoulder. "So we're all fixed up. I'm still clean, thankfully."

"Yeah." Ben hesitates, then steps forward and wraps Klaus in a brief hug. "We made it," he says happily. Klaus almost forgets to hug him back in his surprise.

"Damn, we made it," Klaus agrees.

"Five," Luther says suddenly, lurching to his feet.

Five sways unsteadily, a thin stream of blood trickling from his nose. He touches his upper lip, blinks a few times, when his legs give out and he crumples to the floor. Klaus scrambles to catch him, barely stopping Five's abrupt collapse. His weight is too much for Klaus' scrawny muscles, and they sink to the ground.

"We made it," Five mumbles, eyes fluttering. He goes limp in Klaus' arms.

"Help me get him!" Klaus grunts, and Luther hurries to obey.

Together, with Klaus doing most of the lifting, they carry Five to the parlor couch, where they deposit him unceremoniously. He almost looks peaceful in his sleep.

"Aw, he's cute when he's not obsessing over the end times," Klaus remarks.

"... yeah." Luther turns and stumbles away, clutching his probably pounding head.

"Do we just wait for the others to get back?" Klaus calls after him. "I'll take that grunt as a yes!"

* * *

"-it's not your fault," someone is saying.

Vanya's eyes fly open to find herself standing in an all-too familiar cabin, with a horrible voice gently reassuring her. She shudders and whirls around to see Leonard there, a bloody patch over his eye and his face marred with bruises. The bar. The men she killed.

They made it.

Five brought them back.

"What happened to those guys," Leonard continues, oblivious.

"R-Right," she stammers. "No, I know, I just..."

He touches her arm and she flinches. He'd been manipulating her, isolating her from her siblings for his own gain. He is just as bad as her father.

"You were acting in self-defense," he soothes, mistaking her disorientation for guilt. "You were defending me."

_I wish I'd left you to die._

The dark thought shakes her out of her haze. She wants him to be gone, or to have never existed in the first place, but that isn't possible. And right now, she needs to get back to her siblings. As much as she wants to wipe him off the face of the earth, she knows that after her outburst in the Apocalypse and the time travel, she's completely drained. A headache pulses behind her eyes, and a weird itch is crawling up and down her arms.

"I'm sorry, but I need to get home," she tells him. She begins to gather up her violin case, but his hand on her shoulder stops her.

"Why? They won't understand this, Vanya. You need to stay here so we can figure this out. Together."

His voice is so calm, so sure, she now knows why she fell so easily for him in the first place.

"We can pick this up later, okay?" Vanya pulls away from him, swallowing hard.

"No, Vanya, they don't get it," Leonard says harshly, his expression twisting into something ugly. "They have always wanted to keep you in your place, to tone you down. But you don't deserve that. You deserve to be here with me. You deserve to be special."

That word. _Special._ She hates it. It implies that anyone is better than anyone else, which isn't true. There are just people living their lives.

"Let me go, Leonard," Vanya tells him firmly.

He doesn't let go. "Why can't you understand that I'm what you need? Vanya, I'm trying to help. They'll just shun you."

"Let me go," Vanya repeats.

His hand stays on her shoulder.

"I'll go with you, then," he says, as if he has any right to decide that for her. "Just to make sure they don't try anything."

"No, I-I need to go alone."

His remaining eye darkens. "Vanya, I'm trying to protect you."

Vanya shakes off his hand and steps away from him, eyes narrowed. "Don't make me do this." She isn't even sure if she can at this point. Her headache has built to a pounding rhythm in her skull, and the air around her has begun to ripple weakly.

Leonard notices this. To his credit, he doesn't back away. "I'm the only one who has been here for you."

"That's a lie," she snaps. "Now, if you don't let me go, I _will_ finish this."

Sensing he's in real danger, Leonard reluctantly moves back, allowing Vanya to grab her things and hurry out.

* * *

A shuddering gasp. Cool, fresh air. Honking, blaring alarms.

Allison jolts in her seat, fingernails gripping the edges of the leather, sucking in a ragged breath. The sun burns yellow all around her, and every lungful of air is so clean it almost tastes sweet. Her hands fly up to her neck, where she finds smooth, unblemished skin.

"Oh," she whispers. The wonderful sound of her own voice startles her into near tears. "_Oh_."

As her surroundings register, she realizes she's sitting in a crawling line of traffic. On her way to Vanya, to Leonard's grandmother's house.

She's back.

"Oh my god," she says to herself, relishing the feel of her vocal chords humming smoothly, that uncomfortable hoarseness absent. "Oh god, he brought us back. Five did it."

Her clothes are crisp and new, free of any ash or grime. Any sort of mark from the Apocalypse is gone. She lets out a short laugh, bright and ringing with relief. She isn't sure whether she wants to shout or cry.

"I'm back," she murmurs. She wraps her hands around the steering wheel and heads home.

* * *

Diego crashes to the ground with a thud and a groan of pain, nausea coiling in his stomach. He bends over and dry heaves, his head spinning from the time travel. Nope. He will never get used to that.

Only when he feels the cold concrete beneath his fingers and tastes the stale air does he remember where he is.

"Dammit, prison of all places?" Diego growls under his breath. "Shit."

He pushes himself to his feet, blinking the spots out of his eyes, and leans heavily against the bars. He tries to stay calm. What happened last time?

Right. Beaman came and freed him. Now he just needed to remember how it went last time so he could steer the conversation in his favor.

But Diego was never good at that sort of manipulation. He left that stuff to Allison and Five. Allison could wheedle you into anything without her powers, and Five's mind games never let anyone win an argument. Diego couldn't even get out a sentence properly when he was a kid.

_Clang._

Beaman slips through the door and gently closes it behind him, wringing his hands nervously. He can barely meet Diego's eyes.

Forcing himself to stand upright, Diego says, "you gotta get me out of here, man."

"I can't," Beaman mutters. "They're transferring you upstate this afternoon."

"I didn't kill Patch." His voice catches on her name.

"I know. I'm not the guy you gotta convince."

Diego presses his forehead into the bars. His skin is crawling. "Bullshit."

There's a long pause. Beaman looks down at him, frowning a bit. "You were there, Diego. At the motel. And there's the... contentious history you two had."

"Did she use that word?" Diego asks, even though he knows the answer. A headache throbs behind his eyes, and his legs tremble beneath him. No, no, he'll never get used to time travel.

"What does it matter?"

"It matters to me." Diego lifts his head and tries to ignore the pounding in his skull. "Answer me, Beaman."

"... it's my word."

Diego swallows thickly. Twice around now, and it isn't any easier.

"She put up with a lot of your shit," Beaman says.

"Oh, I know."

"I never understood that."

"Well, like you said," Diego mutters. "Contentious history."

Beaman only smiles slightly and pushes his glasses up. "Or, maybe she knew you cared about helping people just as much as she did." He sticks his hand through the bars. "Good luck."

When Diego shakes his hand, he slips the keys into his sleeve. Beaman nods, bites his lip, and hurries out. The lucky rabbit's foot clinks in Diego's grip.

Time to get out of here.

* * *

Spacetime bends and folds. Five is free falling, somewhere along the way his siblings vanishing from his grip, leaving him stranded in a cold vacuum of hazy blue and black ripples. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

A squeezing sensation all around him, strong wings swirling around him, and then he smacks into hard ground. His fingers curl into the grass beneath him. He sucks in a shuddering breath, forcing his eyes open.

_Where am I?_

"Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?"

Five scrambles to his feet. A too-large suit hangs off of him, and his family stares at him in shock. He looks down at himself. He... He's dressed how he was on March 24th.

The day of his father's funeral.

"Shit," he whispers.

He shoves his way past his siblings, leaving them to trail after him, and immediately storms into the kitchen, grinding his teeth together. Of course nothing ever goes right for him. He must have accidently sent only himself back to the first day.

"Klaus!" he barks out. Klaus flinches. He's swaying slightly on his feet, and by the glassy look in his eyes, he's definitely high. "Klaus, please tell me Ben remembers."

Klaus stares at him. "W-What?"

"Ask him. Ask Ben if he remembers anything."

Maybe ghosts were different. Maybe they could jump through time without resetting.

Klaus glances to the side and begins talking quietly, much to his siblings confusion, before turning back to Five. "Uh, he doesn't know what you're talking about. And frankly, none of us do either."

"Shit," Five repeats. He reaches up to tug at his hair, resisting the stupid urge to start crying. They'd gotten so far. They were fixing all their messed up shit. And now he's back, but without his siblings.

He's still going to try and fix it. He'll stop the Apocalypse for good this time.

"Five, where have you been?" Luther demands.

"I forgot how much of an asshole you were back then," Five muses. "If you must know, I went to the future, which is shit by the way. I spent forty-five years in the Apocalypse, so my mind is fifty-eight but my body is thirteen. Don't ask how I got back, because none of you are smart enough to understand it."

They all gape at him. Then an explosion of questions erupts at his words.

"Forty-five years?"

"Wait, the world ends?"

"I'm not an asshole!"

Five swallows hard and pinches the bridge of his nose. Okay. What are the key mistakes he made in the last timeline?

1\. Letting Harold Jenkins get anywhere near Vanya.

2\. Going on a wild goose chase with the prosthetic eye and MeriTech.

3\. Not taking out Hazel and Cha-Cha sooner.

Okay. Okay. These are the things he can focus on right now.

Wait. One more thing.

He grabs a long knife from the drawer and slices his arm, causing his siblings to practically riot. Diego snatches the knife away from him. The slit is big enough. He reaches into his skin, hissing between his teeth, and yanks out the tracker before his siblings can stop him.

"What the hell, Five?" Allison cries.

"Tracker," he mutters. He crushes it beneath his heel. "You'll thank me later."

"Five, you better tell us what's going on right now," Luther threatens, looming over him.

Five lifts his chin and pins Luther with a glare. "This is my second time through, and so far, I'm not enjoying it. I'm taking the car." Everyone clamors to stop him, but he vanishes in a pop of blue and leaves them behind.

_Okay, Five. Focus. What's first?_

While his siblings are at his father's funeral, he'll be looking for Harold Jenkins. Best to just kill him off before anything has a chance to develop.

"This whole thing is bullshit," Five growls under his breath.

Then he remembers his dangling sleeve cuffs and ruffled appearance. Right. He should probably get a change of clothes.


	13. Rewind, Restart

Klaus watches his mother hum softly to herself, tending to Five's shrapnel wound. He can't help but remember how he saw her last, waving at them sadly from the crumbling building.

He shakes himself.

On the other side of the room, Luther swallows an aspirin and rubs his temples.

"I'm hungry," Klaus announces suddenly. Ben rolls his eyes.

"There are berries and pancakes in the fridge," Grace says, smiling.

"Thanks, Mom."

Klaus traipses to the kitchen, where indeed, there are berries and pancakes. He pops a blackberry in his mouth and starts warming up the pancakes. Ben crosses his arms and stares at him.

"I think there are more pressing matters than food, Klaus."

"Yeah, well, I'm hungry and I haven't had a good pancake in weeks."

Ben sighs.

When Klaus' pancakes are done, he carries the plate and the carton of berries with him back into the parlor, where he discovers Diego.

Diego stands in the doorway, lips parted, eyes wide as he stares at their mother. She looks up at him and smiles.

"Hello, Diego," she greets.

"M-Mom," he chokes out. He crosses the room in a few swift steps and wraps her in a hug, burying his face in her shoulder.

"Aw, how heartwarming," Klaus says to Ben. He holds his hands over his chest and coos at them.

A knife goes sailing past his head and slams into the wall.

"Sorry!"

The next family member to make it back is Allison. She waltzes right into the parlor, grinning, looking happier than she has in weeks. Then she opens her mouth, and...

"Hey, guys, what'd I miss?"

Her voice is smooth and greatly welcomed. It's a relief from those hoarse whispers she'd been trying for days. Luther breaks out into a wide smile and hugs her.

"This is incredible," Luther says. "I'm so happy for you."

Allison laughs and seems to relish the sound.

"Hey, sis," Klaus says next, sidling up to her. "Good to see you're back."

"Oh, Klaus." Allison wraps him in a hug anyway.

"Good to know _some_ people in this house love me," Klaus says pointedly, sticking his tongue out at Diego. "Some people just love their target practice."

"I won't miss this time," Diego tells him.

"Oh, I'm wounded."

"You will be."

Vanya arrives last, looking a bit frazzled and worse for wear but unharmed. She immediately falls into Allison's open arms, soaking up her sister's embrace. She smiles warmly when Allison whispers something to her.

"Where's Five?" she asks after a moment.

Klaus points to their brother's unconscious form lying on the couch, and Vanya quickly hurries over. She pushes his hair from his face and presses her lips together, obviously worried.

"He's passed out before," Diego says. "He'll be fine."

"I don't know," Vanya replies. "He's never time traveled so much in such a short time before. And he's hurt."

"We'll just keep an eye on him," Allison assures her, touching her shoulder. "In the meantime, we should think about what happens next."

"What?" Klaus says, but it comes out more like a whine.

"We're not in the clear yet," Allison tells them. "The shooters that came to the house are still out there, and we also need to worry about what we're going to do with Harold Jenkins."

Vanya rubs her arms, biting her lip. "I left him at the house, but he could come here any second."

"A knife through the heart should do it," Diego suggests.

"Diego, not every solution involves knives," Luther mutters.

"Does everything out of your mouth have to be so annoying? No. But do you stop? Also no."

Klaus, sensing they need an intervention, lets his hands light up blue, and Ben flickers into view. His presence quickly dashes whatever argument was brewing.

"We need to kill him," Ben says, "but we need to be smart about it. We don't want to be accused of murder, right? Diego's already wanted for a murder he didn't commit, so I think it's best if we avoid leaving any evidence that leads back to us."

"How should we do that?" Allison asks.

"Well, now that you have your voice back, the smartest option is for you to rumor him."

Allison instantly shakes her head. "No. I don't do that anymore. Every time I've ever rumored anyone, it's always ended bad."

No one mentions the last time she'd done such a thing. Vanya swallows hard.

"Allison," Ben says softly. "Rumoring a bad person isn't wrong."

"I won't do it."

Ben sighs. "Allison, I know what it's like to be afraid of your powers. But you can do some good. You can use yours to protect our family, and you'd only be hurting someone who deserves to be hurt."

"No one deserves what I can do," Allison says, but her argument is weaker, like she's giving in.

"Leonard does," Vanya mutters.

Allison's foot taps against the ground in an incessant rhythm. "I..."

"If he was awake, Five would say the same," Ben presses.

That seems to do it. Allison deflates, the fight leaving her. "Okay. Okay, I'll do it. But only this one time."

Klaus catches Ben's eye. Ben fades out of view and then gives Klaus a thumbs-up.

Onward and upward.

* * *

They're arguing. Again.

Five idly wonders if they really fought with each other so much in the past timeline. In this one, Diego and Luther are constantly at each other's throats, hurling vicious words and insults. Five sits atop a chair in the parlor, not in the chair but on top of it, chin in his hands and equations buzzing in his mind.

It's the second day. He hasn't figured out where Harold Jenkins is yet, and he's avoided Hazel and Cha-Cha so far. He's decided to stay at the house this time around instead of hunting for the owner of the prosthetic eye.

Right now, everyone is arguing about whether to turn off Grace or not. Objectively, Five knows it's probably best to do so if she really did have a hand in their father's death, but on a more personal level, she is his mother. Perhaps not by birth, but Grace had always been kind to him. Even on Reginald's orders.

She is, however, only a robot. She may look human and smile like a real person, but there is no spark of life in her eyes.

"Five," Luther says, jolting him out of his thoughts. "What's your vote?"

Five raises his head and sighs. He really isn't in the mood to deal with this nonsense. "I, uh... I think if she is degrading, it's probably best to turn her off."

Diego scoffs loudly and Luther lifts his chin in triumph.

"However," Five continues, cutting them off. "I also think we should wait until we have more evidence."

"Ha!" Diego crows at Luther. "See?"

"Don't think I'm taking sides," Five interjects. "I'm stating the objective facts. Now, if you could all stop being idiots and get your shit together for once, I have work to do, and I would appreciate it if you shut your goddamn mouths."

No one seems to know what to say. Allison exchanges a glance with Luther, and Klaus blinks in surprise. Vanya flinches.

"Fine, I'm out," Klaus mutters. He spins on his heel and walks out, Diego right behind him. Vanya swallows a white pill.

Five has struggled with how to handle Vanya. Should he get rid of the medication secretly or just tell her? In the end, he'd decided to leave it be until he kills off Harold Jenkins. She will stay powerless until he knows how to save the world.

Later that day, Five walks around the house, idly flicking off lights and plunging the halls into darkness. Doing it makes him feel eleven again, prowling the hallways to protect his family from harm. He only really stopped doing that when Pogo caught him several times.

He does a quick mental tally. Allison and Luther are in the attic, Klaus is in the bathroom, Diego is stalking the halls while sharpening knives, and Vanya is up in her room. Everyone is accounted for.

A soft hiss and a pop suddenly catch his attention. Five slips around the corner and watches the door as it slowly swings open.

Hazel and Cha-Cha step inside.

_Shit._

This must have been when they attacked the house looking for him. But he's here now. And they're going to regret ever coming after his family.

They walk in hesitantly, as if they aren't quite sure what they're getting into. Hazel peeks into the parlor.

"Cha-Cha," Hazel whispers, pointing at Five's painting on the wall.

"That's our kid," Cha-Cha confirms.

_Kid?_ Five almost lunges out of his hiding spot and shoots them right then and there.

The pair proceeds upstairs. Five creeps after them.

They check Allison's room, then Luther's, remarking on his shoe size. Five wants to laugh. Then, as they head down the hallway, the sound of Diego's boots clicking against the ground makes them freeze. At the very end of the hall, Diego stops. He lifts his head and narrows his eyes.

Hazel and Cha-Cha open fire.

Five claps his hands over his ears at the shower of bullets, twin knives sailing through the air and smacking dead-center into the pair's masks. It would have killed them both. Diego bolts, leaping over the railing and darting into the parlor.

Steeling himself, Five disappears and reappears right in front of Hazel and Cha-Cha, startling them. "Hey, fellas, did you miss me?"

He vanishes as gunfire lights up the room. His portrait gets completely shredded. Oh well. He never liked it anyway.

"There he is!" Cha-Cha snaps. "Find him!"

From behind the couch, Diego's eyes find Five, his jaw slack in surprise. Five raises a finger to his lips, perched in the railing.

"Yoo-hoo," Five calls down. He jumps before they can even begin to aim. Finally. A challenge.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be!" Hazel shouts. "Just come with us, Number Five!"

"Yeah, no way in hell."

Hazel whirls around and lets loose a hail of hot metal, destroying the cabinets in a shattering of glass. Five flashes around the room faster than the eye can see.

Heavy steps tromping down the stairs alerts him to the presence of Luther. He grabs Hazel and launches him across the parlor, sending him smacking into the wall. Cha-Cha engages Allison, who swings her foot in a smooth kick and makes Cha-Cha scramble back to Hazel's side.

"Who the hell are these people?" Allison says.

"Who the hell are these people?" Hazel echoes.

"Hazel, Cha-Cha," Five says loudly. He's now sitting atop the couch nonchalantly. "Meet my family. Brothers and sisters, meet Hazel and Cha-Cha. Renowned assassins and top of their field."

"Five, why are they here?" Diego asks.

"They're here for me."

Five would be content to let the fight play out as it did in the past timeline, but then Vanya steps into the room.

"Hello?" she calls tentatively.

Hazel—who's apparently lost his gun along the way—swings a vicious punch that Vanya barely dodges, stumbling over herself to get out of reach. Luther and Allison are dealing with Cha-Cha. Diego is too far away.

Time to intervene.

Five pops into view and smashes a thick glass over Hazel's head, showering his hands and the ground in twinkling shards. Hazel groans and staggers, but doesn't fall, and swipes at Five blindly.

"Asshole," Five remarks, vanishing.

"Little shit!" Hazel howls, fingers scrabbling at his eyes. Blood streaks down his face.

"Vanya, go," Five urges. He grabs her arm and hauls her out of harm's way, shoving her around the corner. She tries to protest, but he isn't having it. "Get out of here."

Hesitating for a moment longer, Vanya spins on her heel and bolts.

Cha-Cha is gone, while Hazel rubs furiously at his eyes. Luther tends to Allison, though she pushes him away. Diego yanks a knife out of the wall and snaps an insult at Luther.

Who's missing?

A sudden shriek from upstairs answers his question.

"Klaus," Five realizes.

He leaps into the suffocating folds and lunges back into view upstairs, where he finds Klaus vainly trying to fend off Cha-Cha soaking wet and dressed in nothing but a towel.

Cha-Cha's gun clicks.

"NO!" Five screams.

_Bang!_

Klaus freezes where he stands. He makes a strange choking noise, fingers falling to grasp uselessly at the gaping hole in his chest. He sways on his feet, meets Five's horrified stare with a shock-filled one of his own, then topples backwards and hits the ground.

Five doesn't even register what he's doing before he's wrenching Cha-Cha's gun away, cocking it, and pulling the trigger, bits of blood and fluid splattering the wall and Five. His hands are sticky with warm, wet blood.

"Klaus," Five whispers hoarsely, clawing his way over to his brother. Klaus gasps out a wheezing breath, scarlet splattering his lips. "Klaus, no, I..."

A fit of ragged coughs hits Klaus and his whole body trembles with the force of it. Five presses his hands over the bullet wound, fingers slipping in his panic, red filling his vision. Klaus grips his wrists tightly, eyes rolling back in his head.

"Just hold on, hold on," Five urges. He tries to keep pressure on the wound. "Hold on, I'll fix this. I'll fix this."

"F-Fi-Five," Klaus gurgles. Something shines on his cheeks that isn't blood.

"Shh. J-Just hold on, I can..." Five lets out a broken sob and starts shakily wrapping the wound. "I can..."

Klaus' fingers go slack against Five's skin.

"No, no," Five pleads, shaking his brother's shoulders. "No, no, please, I didn't—I was going to _fix it,_ dammit, I was—"

Then the only thing he hears is the bang of a gun and his world goes dark.

Spacetime bends and folds. Five is free falling, stranded in a cold vacuum of hazy blue and black ripples. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

A squeezing sensation all around him, strong wings swirling around him, and then he smacks into hard ground. His fingers curl into the grass beneath him. He sucks in a shuddering breath, forcing his eyes open.

"Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?"

Five scrambles to his feet, panting heavily. There's no blood on his hands. He's wearing a suit that's too big for him, and his family is staring at him in shock. He looks down at himself. He's dressed the way he was on March 24th. Again.

"Again?" Five chokes out, staring at his trembling hands. Klaus' dying cries echo in his head and tears begin to blur his vision.

_Rewind._


	14. Lord, give me that fire

**"Oh, a thousand faces staring at me**  
**Thousand times I've fallen**  
**Thousand voices dead at my feet**  
**Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone**

**And my mother told me son let it be**  
**Sold my soul to the calling**  
**Sold my soul to a sweet melody**  
**Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone."**

**-'Fire' by Barns Courtney**

* * *

Over, and over, and over again.

Dead, dead, dead.

Rewind, reset, restart.

Five loses track of how many times he opens his eyes to a sunny courtyard, his siblings gaping at him slack-jawed. He no longer remembers the key features he needs to stop. He's spiraling in an endless looping of timelines that all go to shit one way or another.

He tries everything.

In several timelines, he kills off Hazel and Cha-Cha early. This is not very effective.

Killing Harold Jenkins seems to ward it off for a while, but everything always comes crashing down, with or without him. Once, in an exhausted haze of his siblings dying screams ringing in his head, Five tries to let him live to see the outcome.

He never does this again.

Klaus travels to Vietnam more often than not, and he gets sober more often than not.

Five had tried to save Detective Patch once, but Klaus and Diego died in that timeline so he had no choice but to reset.

Luther is shot in the head by Hazel. Klaus overdoses for good. Vanya rips apart the world.

* * *

When Five tumbles out of the sky this time, he doesn't even get up. He just lays there, eyes closed, heart thudding painfully in his chest. He doesn't respond to his siblings prodding. He's tired. So, so tired.

"Here we go again," he mumbles before vanishing.

* * *

Every time he dies, he wakes up again. Every time his siblings die, he wearily raises the gun barrel to his head and pulls the trigger.

They're driving in the car when Klaus begins to panic and shout about seeing Allison's ghost. Five swallows hard, smiles humorlessly, and restarts.

Luther is crushed by a fallen chandelier.

Rewind.

Hazel and Cha-Cha torture Klaus until his drug-weakened body collapses from the strain.

Restart.

Harold Jenkins slits Diego's wrists and leaves him in the middle of the forest.

Reset.

Vanya murders Allison in a blind fury.

Again. Again. Again.

* * *

"BULLSHIT!" Five shouts, flinging his papers into the wall as a tear-streaked Allison tells him that Klaus didn't make it. He snatches up his gun and starts again.

* * *

Once, in a desperate attempt to maybe live out his days in a semi-satisfied way, he accepts the Handler's offer and tries to work with the Commission. It ends with the Apocalypse coming and going and him pulling the pin from the grenades with his teeth and blowing up the briefcases.

He tries to convince himself it's a sick joke by the Commission, but he knows they wouldn't waste a time loop on him. Even he's not that valuable.

* * *

"Five, please talk to us," Vanya pleads one night. "You've been holed up here since you got back. We just want to help."

"None of you can help," he whispers in reply.

The next day, Diego takes a bullet for Eudora Patch and then it's time to reset.

Cold metal on his temple is beginning to become routine.

* * *

The equations are always wrong. No matter what he tries, he never escapes. He never stops the Apocalypse. He never goes home.

Endless mistakes. Endless disasters.

"Is there any chance in hell that you're doing this?" Five asks the Handler tiredly, stuck on the next attempt, the total of which has soared into the hundreds.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Five," she replies, shaking her head.

"Thought so." Five shoots her and then himself.

* * *

He collapses to his knees and lets out a frustrated sob, allowing his family to surround him with comforting words. Vanya wraps him in a tight hug. Diego and Luther stand over them like protectors. Allison grips his hand in her own.

"I can't do it," Five cries, trembling violently. "I can't do it, I can't, I..."

"Shh," Vanya murmurs. "It's okay. You're back. We're here for you."

He only sobs harder.

This attempt ends with Klaus committing suicide from his PTSD and then it's back to square one.

* * *

"I never thought I'd say this, but watching you guys scramble to kill each other is actually sort of amusing," Five says, appearing in the motel room where Hazel and Cha-Cha have been hunting the other down all morning. "But my sense of humor is a bit screwed anyway."

"Number Five?" Hazel gasps, freezing in place. "What are you doing here?"

"My brother Diego is dead. I came to ask a question," Five says.

"Ask away," Cha-Cha replies begrudgingly. "Our contract to terminate you was retracted."

"Oh, I know." Five reaches up and rubs his temples, letting out a long sigh. "Do you have any information on time loops?"

They both stare at him, confused.

"... why?" Hazel asks.

"Because I'm stuck in one," Five says. His shoulders slump as he collapses in on himself, a short laugh devoid of amusement escaping him. "I've lost track of how many times I've repeated this week. This is by far not the first time I've sought your help."

"Why should we believe you?" Cha-Cha questions, narrowing her eyes.

"I suppose you don't have to. You could kill me right here if you wanted. I would just wake up again."

Hazel exchanges a glance with Cha-Cha. They lower their guns at the same time.

"We don't know much about time loops, only that they have to be placed by the higher-ups at HQ and they normally don't last for very long," Cha-Cha tells him.

"Huh." Five tips back his head and starts laughing, but it's more like a gasping wheeze and then he's crying, hunched over and sobbing into his hands.

Hazel and Cha-Cha gape at him, slack-jawed.

"Endless," Five chokes out. He rubs uselessly at his eyes. "It's endless. I've woken up over two hundred times. I fail every single time."

"... how can we help?" Hazel says hesitantly, despite Cha-Cha's glare.

"I don't know. I don't _know._ I can't..." Five can't stop trembling, it's like he's always shaking these days. "I don't know anymore. All my equations and knowledge of time has done me _no_ good. I've screwed up big time, and there's no fixing it. It's useless."

"Well, maybe we could help you stop it," Hazel suggests. "Have we tried to help you in the past?"

"Yes. It never works." Five stumbles across the room and takes Hazel's gun from him.

"What are you doing?" Cha-Cha asks.

"Resetting," Five whispers. He raises the gun to his head and everything goes dark.

* * *

"Number Five, right?" Harold Jenkins says, voice laced with admiration. "You went missing a while back, didn't you?"

"Yeah." Five stares hard at him. They're standing in Harold's workshop, with Five aiming a gun at him and Harold flipping through Five's father's journal leisurely.

"You look good. I'm envious."

"I'm sure you are, asshole."

Harold tips his head to the side, smiling slightly. "Do you want to know what your father wrote in here about you? It's a stellar read, though a bit biased."

"I don't want to hear anything out of your mouth."

"Take a seat, Five." Harold does just this, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He lifts the journal. "_Number Five has displayed remarkable intelligence for his age, and is quickly becoming interested in the mechanics of time travel. He is quite set on extending his capabilities, a trait which is admirable although difficult to regulate. His defiant nature seems to be infecting his siblings. I will limit the amount of time he spends with them_."

Five scowls. "Stop talking."

"We're getting to the good part." Harold raises a finger to his lips, mouth curving into a mocking grin. "_His social skills are significantly lacking, and his focus borders on obsession. His work ethic is remarkable when he feels inclined to do so_." He looks up at Five. "It drops off here and picks up a few lines down. Do you want to know what it says?"

"No," Five snaps.

_Yes,_ Five thinks.

"_Disappeared a few days ago. No great loss_." Harold presses his lips together, forehead creased in sympathy. "Your own father admitted you were no great loss. Why would he think that of you, Five? It must hurt to know he never wrote about you again."

Five swallows hard, but doesn't speak. He doesn't trust himself to not say something he'll regret. No use in giving a manipulator more material to work with.

"I understand," Harold says. "My father didn't care about me. He's gone now, of course, but I can never forget the way he used to look at me. Like I meant nothing. If I'd disappeared one day, I'm sure he would've told the authorities, 'No great loss'."

"Stop," Five hisses.

Harold's voice drips with pity. "I'm sorry he never cared about you, Five. Even your siblings never bothered to look for you. I'm sure it was freeing, to be out from under their scrutinizing gazes. There's something liberating about being alone, as I understand intimately."

"You understand nothing." Five raises his gun and _bang!,_ shoots Harold in the head.

He's gone, but his words remain, sickly sweet with understanding and sympathy.

_No great loss._

* * *

"Why does it never _work?!" _Five shouts, flinging his book of equations into the wall with much more force than necessary. Delores sits on his bed, trying to soothe him. "No, I _can't_ take a break. There has to be _something_ I'm missing."

She suggests he rest and try again in the morning.

"I won't waste any more time than I already have. If you aren't going to be helpful, then be quiet."

Five feels a pang of guilt when she turns away and goes silent.

"I'm sorry, I just..." He reaches up and tugs at his hair, a frustrated action he's been doing a lot more lately. "I'm so stressed out I can barely see, and every time I close my eyes I see the end of the world. Please don't be mad at me."

She softly assures him she isn't.

"How do I fix this, Delores?" he whispers, sinking to his knees. "How? If I can't figure this out, who can?"

For that, she has no answer.

When he resets next, it's because he takes a bullet meant for Vanya.

* * *

In the real world, Luther and Diego begrudgingly work with each other to carry an unconscious Five upstairs, ensuring his safety if Harold Jenkins or Hazel and Cha-Cha make an appearance. Allison paces the entryway nervously, while Vanya leans against the wall and taps her foot. Klaus sits on the ground and practices making Ben corporeal. Grace hums softly as she dusts the cabinets.

It's quiet and almost serene.

A rare occurrence in itself.

Light knocking at the door interrupts the peace.

Allison shifts to stand in front of Vanya. Klaus hops to his feet. Diego hovers nearby, while Luther slowly opens the door.

"Not quite the warm welcome I was expecting, but I suppose life goes on." A young woman stands there with shockingly bright green eyes, her black hair trailing down her back in elegant braids. She wears a pale yellow sundress, little blue flowers woven into the fabric. Her voice is smooth and all-business, and in one hand, she holds a black briefcase not unlike the one Hazel and Cha-Cha have.

Before anyone can do anything, she strolls right inside, leaving them to shut the door behind her. She raises an eyebrow at Diego's knife.

"Hostility is unbefitting of such a handsome young man," she tells him, her tone bordering on chiding.

"Yeah, well, that dress ain't too flattering either."

"Who are you?" Allison interjects before Diego can get them all killed.

The woman smiles slightly, but the warmth never reaches her eyes. "The Handler. Number Five may have mentioned me, or rather, my predecessor."

Scowling, Luther steps forward. "You're the one who turned him into a killer. You tried to cause the Apocalypse."

"I did say my predecessor, did I not?" she replies airily. "I myself do not particularly desire the end of the world. Although, I am less close-minded than my colleagues."

"What do you want?" Klaus asks, eyeing her briefcase.

"I am rather... invested, in Five's story arc," she explains. "I know time traveling in such a short period of time is difficult, especially without a briefcase. I do wonder why he didn't merely request one." She shrugs, her piercing gaze flitting over all of them before settling on Vanya. "That feat you pulled has got my division buzzing with gossip. You're quite the enigma, Number Seven."

"Why are you here?" Allison says, trying to draw the Handler's attention away from Vanya. When those strange, calculating green eyes settle on her, Allison shudders.

"I come bearing gifts," the Handler answers, "to assist in Number Five's current condition. He is unconscious, is he not?"

The siblings exchange a look with each other.

"Thought so." The Handler reaches into the folds of her dress, which makes Diego raise his knife and Klaus clench one fist apprehensively. She only smirks and pulls out a strange circular device with a glowing blue center. "Shall we?"

And with that, she turns and walks to the stairs.

Allison squeezes Vanya's hand comfortingly and follows the mysterious Handler.


	15. No One Speaks Yiddish These Days

Everyone trails after the Handler quietly, though tension hangs heavy and thick in the air. The Handler seems to know the exact layout of their house, which is unsettling in Klaus' informed opinion.

"Summon me if you need to," Ben tells him.

Klaus nods, distracted. The Handler's briefcase swings in her grip, sleek and black and brimming with unpleasant memories.

It feels like something hard is lodged in his throat. Klaus swallows hard, not for the first time wishing he could drown his sorrows in drugs. Ben seems to understand as he shuffles closer to Klaus.

The Handler turns the corner and opens Five's door. Five is still asleep, chest rising and falling with his breathing. The Handler pulls out a chair and sits down. Everyone else crowds inside. Diego and Vanya hover over Five, as if daring the Handler to try anything.

She holds out her strange contraption thingy and says, "who here has the closest to mental powers? Like telepathy?"

"That'd be me, I guess," Klaus pipes up. "I mean, the whole seeing ghosts thing is kinda psychic, right?"

"I suppose it'll have to do."

"First, what are you doing?" Luther demands.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the Handler beckons at Klaus. He hesitantly walks over. "I'm going to transport Klaus' consciousness into Five's," she explains slowly, like they're all incompetent children. "This way, he can make Number Five aware that he is dreaming without disrupting his psyche."

"How do you know all this?" Allison asks. "Five could just be recovering for all we know."

"עטלעכע סיקריץ מוזן בלייַבן איינער פון זיך," the Handler replies.

Everyone stares at her. She waves them off, murmuring something about foreign languages falling out of style these days.

"It's Yiddish for 'some secrets must remain one's own'," she tells them. "Now, Klaus, hold out your hand."

Klaus reluctantly obeys. She takes his wrist in her surprisingly strong grip and presses the contraption into his palm with the 'hello' tattoo. She makes a few adjustments, securing it to his skin, then guides his hand to Five's forehead.

"In a few moments, don't be alarmed," she says.

_What a surefire way to alarm me,_ he thinks sarcastically.

"You're about to feel something very strange. When you find Number Five, tell him the code 'Citadel six'. He'll know what it means."

And before he has any chance to back out or explain that his anxiety might interfere with her technology, she presses a button and everything goes dark.

A strange squeezing sensation folds around him, the blackness pressing all around him like a physical weight, his vision swimming with hazy blue and flashing light. His ears pop. Something vibrates against his palm. His thoughts are muddled and bleary as he tries to lift his head, but it's like his skull is stuffed with cotton and he's hopped up on pills. Yeah. Yeah, this is like being high, but worse.

The panicked feeling swelling in his chest increases with every second he stays suspended in this muffled twilight, not entirely sure which way is up and which is down.

Then, all at once, the darkness is filled by dim light, awareness returning to him as he registers the texture of coarse wood beneath his fingers. He sucks in a ragged breath. His head knocks against something soft; maybe a bed.

"Ah," Klaus groans, rubbing his eyes. Even time traveling is more pleasant than that.

He slowly realizes he's sitting on the floor of the parlor, head resting against the couch.

"Do you need any help, Klaus?" Grace asks him cheerfully. She holds a rag and cleaning spray in her hands. Does she ever stop cleaning this house?

"Uh, no," Klaus stammers, pushing himself to his feet. "Hey, um, do you know where Five is?"

"He's right upstairs in his room," she replies.

"Thanks, Mom." Klaus stops in the doorway. "Wait, what day is it?"

"March twenty-six."

"Okay."

So, two days after Five fell out of the sky. Klaus steadies himself on the railing, still reeling from the weird consciousness transportation thing. He passes Diego's room, where the latter is pacing and flinging knives into the air. Huh. Not much is different, then.

"Hell-oo?" Klaus calls out before pushing Five's door open.

Five is hunched over at his desk, scribbling viciously on a poor scrap of paper. His eyebrows are pinched in concentration and his lips are tightened in a thin line, everything about him radiating hostility. Klaus frowns.

"Whatcha doing?" Klaus asks.

"Just get out," Five mutters. With his posture, Klaus expects his words to hold as much venom as they usually did, but in sharp contrast, he sounds defeated.

"Not until you tell me why you're writing like a madman."

Five exhales sharply. His pen clatters from his grip as he slumps forward, his forehead almost touching the desk. He's trembling, Klaus notices, his shoulders shaking as he seems to fight back a sob.

"Please leave," Five whispers. "I can't do this right now."

"Five," Klaus says firmly. He sets a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Look at me."

Five raises his gaze to meet Klaus'.

"What do you think has been going on lately?" Klaus asks him.

"I..." Five sighs. "Time loop. I've relived this week more times than I can remember. I wake up on March 24th every single time. And nothing I say to you matters, because something will go to shit eventually and I'll just wake up again."

"Five, you know that..." Klaus trails off, unsure if this information dump will be too much for the little bugger. "You know none of this is real, right?"

Five stiffens. "What?"

"This is all a dream, Five. You've been unconscious ever since you took us through time in the Apocalypse, remember? We made it back safely. You saved us."

Shaking his head, Five's chair pushes away from his desk with an ungodly screech as he jolts to his feet. "No, no, that can't be right. My equations couldn't have... It's too complex to..." He dissolves into a string of unintelligible mumbles, gritting his teeth and picking up a piece of chalk to begin writing on the wall.

Klaus grabs his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Five's eyes narrow, but he doesn't wrench away like Klaus anticipates.

"You gotta believe me," Klaus pleads. "Come on."

"No," Five snaps. "You're just high, Klaus, maybe try and get sober for once. Stop hiding from your problems and face them like the rest of us."

"Citadel six," Klaus tells him. The code phrase given to him by the Handler.

Instantly, Five goes still. He abruptly grabs Klaus by the shirt collar and slams him into the wall in one swift movement, knocking the air from his lungs. Klaus wheezes a breath.

"What did you say?" Five hisses, his voice dangerously soft.

"Citadel," Klaus chokes out, "six."

"Where did you hear that?" Five demands. "_Tell me,_ Klaus."

"Your Handler lady. The one who can speak other languages and apparently is 'invested' in your story arc? Sound familiar?"

"That's not possible." Five releases his shirt and stumbles back, shaking his head. "No, there's no way. You've never met her."

"In the real world, yeah. In this weird dreamscape time loop thing you're in, no. What does citadel six mean anyway?"

"It's a code," Five mutters. "All field agents have a different one. I was citadel six. There's no real reason for the names or numbers, but it's like an assigned serial number so HQ can keep track of us. Only the higher ups and myself know that code."

"So you believe me now? That you're dreaming?"

"No, I..." Five swallows hard. He looks up at Klaus, his normally bright green eyes dulled and broken. "That can't be right, because then..."

"Then what?" Klaus presses.

"Then this would all be for nothing. All this, all the shit I've gone through in this time loop would be for nothing. I wasted over a year trying to solve an unsolvable problem." Five laughs humorlessly and throws his chalk to the ground, where it rolls to a stop by Klaus' foot. "Useless. I always seem to be wasting my time on dead ends, huh? Guess that's just how life goes for the legendary Number Five."

"Hey, don't get down on yourself buddy," Klaus says. He reaches out to touch Five, but thinks better of it as Five tenses, his hand twitching for the gun sitting on the bed. Klaus lets his hand fall back to his side. "You didn't know any better. Let's just get home, okay?"

"Fine."

"... how do we do that?"

Five sighs. "I suppose I'll just have to wake up."

Then the world tilts dizzyingly around Klaus and darkness swallows him.

* * *

Klaus jerks backwards and tumbles off the chair, hitting the ground with a thump and a cry of surprise. The contraption on his palm retracts into itself and releases him.

"Shit," Klaus hisses. Diego grabs his arm and helps him up. "I think I have vertigo now."

"You look fine to me," Diego says, patting his shoulder.

In the bed, Five sucks in a shuddering gasp and dissolves into a coughing fit, clutching his side. The shrapnel wound. Right. Klaus bites his lip in sympathy.

Vanya promptly envelopes Five in a tight hug. Five splutters in surprise but doesn't push her away.

"You scared me," Vanya whispers.

"Sorry." Five slowly eases himself into a sitting position, minding his injured side. His expression twists into a scowl at the sight of the Handler, who has scooped up the contraption and is tucking it away into her briefcase.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she says casually.

"What do you want?" Five snaps. "I know you don't do anything without wanting something in return. Name your price."

"I'm affronted by your quick assumptions. You simply must learn to see the best in people."

"I saw the best in people until I realized that people are shit. I'm not assuming anything. I know how the Commission operates."

She quirks one eyebrow and smiles. It's all sharp edges and no warmth. "I've always held your perception skills in high regard. So, yes, I will name my price. I want your equations, your work. Everything that has accumulated to your remarkable trips through time." Before Five can protest, as he seems to be ready to do, she continues, "it will only be seen by me, of course, and few trusted colleagues. I'm simply interested in how that sharp mind of yours works."

Five grits his teeth. "I need them for reference."

"We can make copies." She chuckles, but she's the only one who finds any humor in this. "Consider it an even trade. I help you, you help me."

Everyone holds very still as Five and the Handler stare each other down. Then Five presses his lips together in begrudging resignation. The Handler's eyes glint with triumph.

"You can send them to me via pneumatic tube," she says. "Since you lost yours in the Apocalypse..." She hands him a bronze capsule, which he reluctantly accepts. "And as my predecessor may have said once, 'በድጋሚ እስክንገናኝ ድረስ.'"

And with that, she opens the clasps of her briefcase and vanishes in a ripple of blue light.

"What does that mean?" Luther asks after a moment.

"'Until we meet again'," Five mutters. "Amharic. Wonder where she learned that."

Still gripping his side, Five pushes himself to his feet and wobbles towards the door. Vanya grabs his arm to help him and Diego starts to tell him to get back in bed, but Five shakes them off.

"We still have things to deal with," Five says, "remember? Harold Jenkins and Hazel and Cha-Cha aren't just going away. We need to handle them right now."

"Me and Vanya were going to Harold's house," Allison interjects. "You can come."

"Great. I didn't plan on staying behind."

Then Five spins on his heel and disappears with a _pop!_


	16. Threatening Chats

Spacetime lands Five in the driver's seat of the family car. The blue rift snaps closed behind him.

The world whirls dizzyingly around him as he struggles to keep his nausea at bay, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the steering wheel. In hindsight, using his powers so early was a bad decision, but he's the king of dramatic exits.

He's gotta uphold the reputation.

Allison and Vanya make it downstairs a few minutes later. Allison climbs into the passenger seat while Vanya takes the back.

"Shouldn't I drive?" Allison tries to suggest. "So we don't get pulled over for having minor at the wheel?"

"Call me a minor one more time. I dare you."

Wisely, Allison closes her mouth.

Five hopes for the trip to pass silently, so he can collect his thoughts, but no luck.

"Are you feeling okay?" Vanya asks, touching his shoulder lightly.

He flinches away from her. She retracts her hand.

"I'm fine," Five replies. "The shrapnel wound aches but I'm okay." He fiddles with the radio and turns up the music to discourage further conversation.

Now, he can think about his circumstances without interruption. 'It was all a dream' time travel bullshit. He'd wasted so much time trying to stop something impossible, a malfunction in his brain from over-exerting himself. Why did nothing ever go right for him? Why did the universe insist on tearing him down every single time things started looking up?

Not this time. Allison talks to Vanya, obviously relishing the use of her voice, while Vanya smiles more than he's ever seen. The real world had opportunities for him. A future.

A real future.

It seems almost unreal.

The ride to Jackpine road is filled with anxiety. Five knows that in this timeline, he's never met Harold Jenkins, so he can't let his emotions get the best of him in this encounter. He's really just here to ensure his siblings safety, but he wishes he could kill Jenkins himself. The satisfaction of killing someone who'd caused him so much pain, caused his siblings so much pain.

He swallows hard.

_Normal people don't think about killing people,_ he reminds himself.

When they finally get there, Allison says, "okay. Let's do this."

Five steps out and slams the door behind him. Vanya hovers nearby, like she wants to touch him but knows his boundaries. He respects the gesture. He shifts closer to her.

"I'll go in first," Vanya says quietly. "Stay back until I say so."

Then she heads inside. Five taps his foot impatiently, while Allison chews on her bottom lip. A few more moments pass. The woods are filled with chirping birds and the rustling of small creatures, the floorboards beneath his feet creaking with their weight. Someone raises their voice inside the house.

Allison exchanges a glance with him. Five grabs her arm and pops them both inside.

Harold is glaring at Vanya, gripping a leather-bound journal in his hands. Gold initials RH glint on the cover. He cuts himself off from whatever he was saying when he sees them. His expression shifts into casual interest.

"Allison," he says. "Good to see you." His gaze lands on Five. "Number Five, isn't it? You disappeared a while ago. You look good."

"Shut up," Five snaps.

"You were my favorite, you know," Harold continues. "Not only power-wise, but your personality, your intellect. You figured how to time travel at the age of thirteen."

"I wasn't ready. I made a hasty decision and it cost me everything."

"I understand that." Harold smiles sympathetically. "Well, because you're here, I can only assume you three are going to finish the job, yes?"

"Something like that," Allison says.

"Hm." Harold smacks the binding of the journal once, still smiling in that confident, smug way. He looks right at Five. Something about his eyes make Five feel like he's being dissected. "I'm sure killing me will ease your inner turmoil."

"Probably not, but it'll feel really good," Five agrees. "Allison, you're up."

She takes in a deep breath, lifts her chin, and says, "**I heard a rumor that you don't remember anything about us or the Umbrella Academy.**"

Harold's remaining eye swims with a murky haze, Allison's rumor sinking in and altering his consciousness. He blinks a few times at them.

"Where am I?" he says after a moment, frowning. "Who are you?"

"You suffered a head injury," Allison tells him firmly. "We found you here. You should go the hospital and tell them you were mugged."

"... yes. Yes, I believe I should." Harold blinks again, then breaks out into a confused smile. "Thank you." And with that, he walks out the door and drives off.

Silence.

"That was... remarkably easy," Five says, huffing a laugh.

"Guess that's the end of it," Allison agrees. "Come on." She takes Vanya's hand and guides her to the front door. "Let's go, Five."

Five reaches down and scoops up the fallen red journal. He doesn't dare open it. "You guys go on ahead. I've got one more thing to take care of, then I'll meet you back at the house."

"Are you sure?" Vanya asks.

"Yeah."

They reluctantly close the door behind them.

Five stares at the journal. The gold lettering seems to wink at him. He squeezes the leather briefly and tucks it away. Now, what's the next issue to take care of?

Ah, yes.

The two temporal assassins.

* * *

Hazel dodges Cha-Cha's kick and sends a punch flying through the air. Agnes makes a muffled noise of fear through her gag.

They continue to trade blows, neither able to get the upper hand, both fighting for emotions and personal interests. As Hazel crashes into the wall, he cries out for Cha-Cha to stop, but nothing is able to quell her determination.

"Hazel, Cha-Cha," a condescending and much-too young voice chides. "That's enough, I think."

Aforementioned assassins both freeze.

Number Five sits perched on the edge of the bed, one eyebrows raised and a deceivingly pleasant smile in place. He picks at his fingernails, looking disinterested.

"As entertaining as this is, I'm going to stop this merry-go-round of death now," Five tells them casually. "To cut a long story down to manageable lengths, I betrayed the Commission, blew up the briefcases, and crippled the Handler."

Hazel stares at him in shock. Cha-Cha mirrors his expression.

"I also sent you those messages you received to terminate the other."

"_What?"_ the pair says at the same time.

"Yeah, I thought I could get rid of you easily that way. Smart, right?" Five grins, but it's dangerous rather than amused. "You don't need to sing my praises for me to know I'm exponentially more intelligent than you."

"... why are you here, then? Why wouldn't you just let us kill each other?" Cha-Cha asks. Her gun twitches like she might aim for Five, but his eyes latch onto the movement and his smile sharpens.

"That seems logical, doesn't it?" Five tips his head to the side. He purposefully shifts so they can both see the gun tucked into his waistband, and how close his hand is to touching it.

Hazel remembers their first briefing, the bright red file filled with information on Number Five. He recalls holding the papers with reverence, knowing he's touching the legacy of a legend.

_Very dangerous. His focus is easily driven to obsession and he is relentless once given a task. Though his time in the Apocalypse honed his survival instincts, his mind underwent heightened duress and he is prone to crack sometime in the future. He also possesses abilities far beyond the ordinary, extent of these abilities is unknown. Threat level: A._

Now, Hazel can see why the Commission was so careful about the right way to tackle this mission. Five leans like he's unconcerned, but the intelligent glint in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders makes it clear he's someone you shouldn't mess with. His lips turn up sharply in a shark-like smirk, and the startling intensity of his jaded eyes is enough to make even the burliest street thug spin on his heel and bolt.

"But I'm not here to watch the fight go down, nor am I going to finish you off myself," Five continues leisurely. He pushes himself up, causing Hazel to accidentally flinch. Cha-Cha shoots him a glare. "I should, in all common sense, put a bullet in your brains' to be rid of you once and for all, but I come instead ot make you a deal."

"What sort of deal?" Hazel asks tentatively.

"I've had a pretty bad week," Five tells them. "And I've jumped through time twice in the span of two weeks, which has pushed me to my absolute limit. I am not in the mood for you to terrorize my family. So, as a show of good faith, I am giving you a choice. Hazel, I will allow you to retire with Agnes to a location of your choosing."

Hazel deflates in relief. He knows it was nearing a point where he might actually have to kill Cha-Cha to escape, but now Five is giving him a way out.

"And Cha-Cha, you can retire somewhere at least 100 miles from city limits without your files, weapons, and briefcase." Five gets to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. He's still dressed like a schoolboy.

"If I don't?" Cha-Cha challenges, eyes narrowed.

"Cha-Cha," Hazel says, "look at the opportunity he's giving us. This is the best offer we're going to get."

She turns to glare incredulously at him. "You traitorous—"

"To answer your question, Cha-Cha," Five pipes up. He smirks as they fall silent. "If you make the unfortunate decision to continue pursuing this fruitless endeavor, then, well..." He slips his gun into his hand and spins it lazily, fingers expertly dancing over the gun and cocking it. The motion is so fluid, Hazel almost misses it. "You understand the consequences of such a mistake."

Cha-Cha visibly swallows. Hazel holds his breath, waiting for her answer and dreading it all the same.

"... okay." Her hands drop down to her sides, shoulders slumping in defeat. She's outmatched, and she knows it. "Fine."

"Try not to make a habit of breaking any promises to me," Five says. "I will know if you attempt to cross me. There will be no speeches, no last words, although I do love a good monologue. I will kill you and there will be no hesitation. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," Cha-Cha mutters.

"Great." Five tucks his gun away and flashes them a smile that's all bared teeth. "One more thing. Do you happen to have in your possession my file and other documents?"

Cha-Cha exchanges a glance with Hazel before they both nod.

"I need them, in addition to your gun," Five says.

They scramble to find the things that Five asked for, not wanting to be on his less-than-pleasurable side. Hazel pulls the red file from his briefcase, while Cha-Cha reluctantly turns over her gun.

"Thank you." Five runs his hands over his file, eyes glittering with anticipation. He looks up at them and cracks one final grin. "Have a good life."

And with a flash of blue, he's gone.

A moment later, Cha-Cha discards any of her other weapons, bids him a curt goodbye, and slams the motel door behind her. Hazel runs up to Agnes and unties her. With a shuddering gasp, she collapses into his arms.

"Who was that?" she whispers.

Hazel holds her close. "Just a coworker. Don't worry, he took care of everything for us. Let's go to that bird sanctuary, huh? Yeah? Come on."

Together, they wobble to the door and head outside. Hazel glances around for Cha-Cha, fearing she might be waiting for him, but there's no sign of her. She's gone for good.

While he sighs in relief, another weight settles in his chest.

She's gone. His partner for so many years, turned her back on him and left.

He swallows hard and helps Agnes into the car.


	17. Contemplations and Propositions

The second day back at home is a quiet one. Everyone mostly keeps to themselves, and no one speaks above a whisper as if fearing to disturb the peace.

Vanya picks up her violin—both her and Allison flinch hard—and begins to play at one point, filling the house with quick, delicate notes that sing of hope and serenity. Diego cannot be found away from their mother's side. Luther pays their father's grave a visit and leaves flowers. Klaus does the same and spits on them. Five constantly walks around, checking up on his siblings like he's afraid something might happen to them. Allison talks to Claire on the phone for as long as she can.

Nearing the end of the day, the sun wavers by the horizon, casting long sheens of golden light over the house and lighting up the interior with pale yellow. Five draws the curtains closed, plunging the house into darkness. His eyes adjust to the dim light quickly.

He goes through a mental tally. Allison and Luther are in their rooms. Vanya went home earlier to check up on her elderly neighbor. Klaus is in the parlor, fast asleep, and Diego is in the kitchen with Grace. Everyone is accounted for.

Trying to make himself relax, Five lowers his shoulders and wiggles his fingers in an attempt to release tension. Why can everyone else go back to normal and he can't?

He arrives in the entrance of the parlor. Klaus is draped over the couch, one leg dangling off the side and his 'goodbye' tattoo splayed over his face. Five lifts one eyebrow, wondering what Ben thinks about this, then casts his gaze around the parlor. A few lanterns fill the space with flickering shadows. A portrait of himself hangs above the mantle.

Seized with a sudden urge, Five climbs up the mantle and takes the portrait down, propping it up against the wall where his face isn't visible.

"I've always hated that painting," he mutters to himself.

He drops down onto the other couch with a huff, sinking into the cushions and trying to relax. Klaus makes a muffled noise in his sleep and rolls over. Five wonders what it's like to be Ben; unattached, no obligations, unseen.

"I wish I was..." Five trails off, realizing that where he planned to go with that sentence is very worrying and he shouldn't be thinking things like that. "Damn, I'm messed up."

Not for the first time, he wishes Delores were here.

He wants to _do_ something. He needs to keep his hands busy and his thoughts focused on something, or else the less pleasant ideas bubble to the surface. He tries to lace his hands behind his head and sleep, but there's no point.

Why him? Why did he have to be the one to suffer?

_I'm a horrible person,_ he thinks bitterly, _to wish this on another person._

All of his efforts to get here seem to not matter anymore. It's like his purpose has been carved from his ribcage, leaving him hollow. Is this what victory feels like? He isn't so sure he wants to feel it anymore.

What can he do? What can he do to distract himself from the emptiness inside?

_Equations. No, that's unhealthy and unnecessary._

_Running laps?_

_It's too dark outside._

_Reading, maybe. What can I read that's worth my time?_

The file. The Commission folder. Five pushes himself to his feet and steps through the folds of space into his room. The red file sits innocently on his desk. He picks it up, rubbing his thumb over the cover.

The first page is a brief skim on his history and origins. The next is a detailed account of his personality, his strengths and weaknesses.

_Number Five is extremely intelligent and under no circumstances should be engaged on a mental basis alone. He follows orders very well, but only if they fit his own self-interest and end goal. He is highly unstable and from his father's account, too emotionally attached to his siblings and values their wellbeing over his own._

Five scoffs slightly. They had to gather information on him from Reginald Hargreeves? Seems like they were desperate.

_Attached below is a report in the aftermath of an interview with Number Five._

_[**subject content**] Number Five._

_Dear Psi,_

_ I'm afraid that we are quite underprepared for what we've gotten ourselves into. Number Five is not only unpredictable, he is wildly temperamental and prone to fits of anger. In response to the majority of my questions, he twisted the conversation to run in the direction of his choosing, and I got the feeling I was no longer the one conducting the interview; he was._

_ A sore spot with him seems to be his family and his time in the Apocalypse. After I questioned him about his siblings, he essentially shut down and was curt with me for the rest of the interview. He seemed remarkably paranoid and suspicious of our intentions, and I noticed him scanning the room as if for potential threats. He demanded I make it explicitly clear what I planned to get out of the interview, and although I answered truthfully, he remained closed-off and reluctant to share information._

_ He has a deep and morbid fear of returning to the Apocalypse, or perhaps, to the solitude of the Apocalypse. Every time I mentioned it, he formed a barbed question of his own for me to answer, effectively directing me away from the subject._

_ I do admire his manipulation tactics, and if he continues to hone them in the future, he may become manager material._

_ However, it is not wise to head into this before we know how to handle him. We need a way to subdue him without breaking the fragile trust we've encouraged, and he needs to be stable enough to complete a case. I've recommended our physicians to his case, so hopefully they'll have results within the week._

_Formally yours,_

_Rho._

Ah. So they _were_ afraid of him. He'd had his suspicions in the past, but this is a blatant confirmation. They were terrified of the unknown, and he was the biggest mystery they'd ever encountered.

Though he shouldn't, he feels the slightest twinge of pride at rattling an ageless organization filled with people much more influential than him.

The next few pages held a few interviews, some medical history, and several mission reports. He remembers each and every one of them. Some photos are tucked into the back. He smirks when he sees his threat level. Many other things catch his attention, such as the Handler's personal comments on him. Even the higher-ups in management were interested in his case.

He shouldn't let the fame get to his head.

... but it does feel good.

Shaking his head slightly, Five closes the folder and slips it under his shirt, resolving to read it more closely another time.

But for now, maybe Klaus has the right idea.

* * *

Klaus wakes up the next morning early and with a plan in mind. He summons Ben and has him rouse their siblings, telling them to meet in the parlor. Meanwhile, Klaus gathers his poster board and uncaps a marker to look more studious. Ben returns to find him leaning on the wall, chewing on the end of his pen.

"You're ridiculous," Ben tells him.

"I'll have silence in my classroom."

Once everyone arrives in the parlor, rubbing their eyes and yawning, Klaus instructs them to sit down.

"This better be for good reason," Diego says, "or else this knife is going to find a new home in someone's heart."

"Death threats don't look good on resumés," Five advises.

"Ahem," Klaus interrupts loudly. "Attention, students. I have devised a plan for this raging dumpster fire of a family, and if you try to leave before hearing me out I can and will sic Ben on you."

"I'm not a dog," Ben says, rolling his eyes. "But yeah."

"Now presenting..." Klaus grabs the first page on the poster board and rips it off with a flourish, revealing the underlying words 'Family Bonding' in bright pink marker. "Family bonding!"

"No," Diego says immediately, getting up to leave.

Ben appears in his path wearing a shit-eating grin. "Stay."

"Let's be honest," Klaus says. "The lack of communication in this household is going to get us all killed one day. We're so fucking dysfunctional, I'm shocked we haven't driven ourselves off a cliff yet. As a remedy, I have the support of not one, but two members of this house to institute new family bonding rules." He drew himself up. "Would the accused please rise?"

Rolling her eyes, Allison stands up. Diego gives a mock-gasp.

"Traitor," he says sarcastically.

"Ben and Allison have agreed to help maintain stability in this land mine of a family," Klaus explains. "And they're not afraid to enforce it, so don't even try to get out of it."

Luther groans quietly. Five narrows his eyes but remains silent.

"And with that, I present to you, the schedule!" Klaus and Allison tear off the paper together this time. He taps the board with his pen. "Every week you will be participating in a different bonding activity. On Monday and Tuesday we have a hangout day, which means you have to spend time with at least one other person all day. On Wednesday, it's group activities, so all seven of us will do stuff together that day."

"Thursday is movie night," Allison says, smiling. "Friday is game night. The weekend is reserved for... a surprise. Klaus and I are planning the weekend trip, and we'll rotate each week. Sound good?"

"No," Diego says.

"I also have objections," Five says.

"Great!" Klaus exclaims. "Looks like we all agree then!"

"Don't get me wrong," Vanya starts hesitantly. "I think it's a great idea, but... I have violin lessons, and I play with my orchestra. I can't take off too many days."

"Which is understandable," Allison replies. "If there's extenuating circumstances, we're allowing a few free days a week. Diego, this does not clear you to do vigilante justice instead of bonding with your family."

"And this mostly works out, because Luther doesn't have a life, Five doesn't either, I'm not employed, and Ben is dead, so we don't have any prior engagements!" When Klaus finishes saying this, Luther scowls, and Five gets to his feet as if he's about to leave.

"Five, please," Allison says, catching his arm. Five flinches and steps away from her. "Please? We just want to help."

"I think this whole thing is a bullshit ploy," Five snaps. "Just because you read a few psychology books doesn't mean you know how to fix this pitiful mockery of a real family. I, for one, will not be putting up with your shitty attempts at 'mending your wrongs' or whatever this is."

"Ouch," Klaus says, putting his hands on his chest mockingly. "That hurt, _abang_."

"Is that Indonesian?" Diego asks.

"I know a guy."

"Five, I know this isn't ideal, but we need to try and heal as a family," Allison tells him softly. "I _want_ us to be a real family. Don't you?"

Five bites his lip and crosses his arms. "... fine. But the moment it starts getting over-the-top, I'm out."

"Fair."


	18. Overgrown

**"Promise I will never run**  
**Catching fire, let the light become**  
**Shallow edges of the sun**  
**Feel the heat, hold it in your lungs**  
**Never could've loved you more**  
**By your side in a quiet roar**  
**This is what my hope is for**  
**Watch you float when the water's gone**

**I never get high when you're feeling low**  
**I'm pulling down stars just to make you glow**  
**It's just the way you are when you're overgrown**  
**And in the middle of the night when you're on your own**  
**I'm chasing down light in the indigo**  
**It's just the way you are when you're overgrown**  
**And I will never let you go**  
**No I will never let you go."**

**\- 'Overgrown' by Oh Wonder**

* * *

With Wednesday comes the enactment of Klaus and Allison's scheme to fix their family. Now, they're all standing in the parlor, waiting for Klaus to unveil his next revelation.

"Today we're going to a carnival!" he exclaims, wiggling his fingers in a jazz-hands motion.

"A carnival," Luther echoes.

"A carnival!" Klaus repeats loudly. "And we're going to have fun, and you're going to like it."

"Aye-aye, captain," Vanya says with a straight face. Klaus high-fives her.

The group awkwardly traipses to the family car, where it becomes clear not all of them will fit. Allison decides to take half of them in her car instead. The seating ends up being Vanya, Diego, and Five in the family car, and Luther, Klaus, and Allison in the other. Ben tags along with Klaus, of course.

Vanya watches the scenery blur by as they drive, trying to lose herself in the vibrant colors and beautiful architecture of the old city. In the passenger seat, Five writes slowly and carefully on a notebook, obviously restraining himself from scribbling like a maniac. Diego fiddles with the radio and settles on an oldies station.

"_This year's love had better last / Heaven knows it's high time—_"

Diego turns off the radio.

The car falls silent. Vanya closes her eyes and leans against the window, marveling briefly at how smooth the car is. The ground crunching beneath them, the engine growling, the various chatter outside. All feeding her energy. Her ear no longer rings from the gunshot, so she can hear everything fully. The gentle rumble of background noise threatens to lull her to sleep.

She isn't sure how long it takes them to arrive, but the sun is halfway down the sky. She guesses it's close to 3:30.

"I hate this already," Diego mutters to himself.

"Deal with it like the rest of us," Five replies.

The other half of their group meets them at the front gate, where each of them buys a ticket and steps inside.

Vanya hasn't been to... well, _any_ carnivals in her life, but this seems like the perfect representation of one. Dozens of vendors and little gift shops line the main street. Couples and family alike laugh and talk, toting around prizes and snacks. Little kid shrieks sound in the distance. A massive orange and purple ferris wheel stands tall above everything else, the lights not yet lit.

It looks chaotic and messy. She can't help but feel like maybe this won't be as fun as Klaus had painted it.

"Where to first, Klaus?" Luther asks tiredly.

"Hm..." Klaus taps his chin. "I mean, I really didn't expect you all to go along with me this far. It's whatever you guys want to do."

Diego groans. Five shoves his hands in his pockets—Vanya notes he's still dressed like a schoolboy, they'll have to find him some new clothes—and sighs.

"Well, how about some food first?" Vanya suggests, hoping to try and enjoy herself here. Excluding Klaus and Allison, her family seems less than enthused.

"I could eat," Diego concedes.

Everyone shuffles over to the nearest vendor. A few moments later, Klaus sips a slushie loudly, and Vanya crunches a piece of popcorn. It's over-salted and too buttery, but her standards were low. Five picks at a funnel cake for exactly four seconds before passing it off to Diego, muttering about how he isn't hungry. Vanya frowns.

"Oh, let's play that!" Klaus pipes up, pointing at a game that's probably rigged. Everyone awkwardly follows him.

Vanya is only listening half-heartedly as the attendant boredly explains the rules of the game, which seems to be a guessing game. She's always been terrible at those.

The attendant—although obviously exhausted—traps an orange ball beneath one of the cups and spins them expertly, shuffling them around faster than Vanya can keep track of. Beside her, Luther mutters, "I hate these things." When he's mixed them up enough, the attendant stops the cups and looks at Klaus expectantly.

"Um... Back me up here, guys," Klaus says.

"I don't know," Luther and Diego say simultaneously.

"Ooh, this is tough," Allison says. Vanya shakes her head.

Five, however, steps forward, frowning slightly. "It's the third one," he says. Surprised, the attendant lifts the third cup to reveal a bright orange ball.

"Damn, Five," Allison remarks, laughing.

"It's not difficult," he replies. "You just keep track of it. Let's play again."

The attendant shuffles the cups again, faster this time. Five guesses correctly again. Seemingly frustrated, the attendant's movements become harsher and quicker. Five always guesses right. On their fifth and final turn, the attendant is scowling and scraping the cups roughly against the counter. He stops abruptly and narrows his eyes at Five.

After a moment of silence, Five lifts one eyebrow. "It's in your left hand," he says smoothly. "You tried to cheat."

Dropping the orange ball on the table, the attendant sneers at them and says, "pick your prize and leave, kid."

Five shrugs. "Angry that I conned a con?"

Vanya snickers despite herself. Klaus claps a hand on Five's shoulder and grins like a proud parent.

"The kid's a troublemaker," Klaus jokes with the attendant. He picks out a bright pink unicorn, despite Diego's comment about his maturity and Luther's judging gaze. As they move on, he defends, "I like it! And it's soft. I've decided to name it Charles."

Throughout the course of the evening, Vanya learns a few things. Five is scarily good at luck or guessing games, Diego can cheat at a variety of things with his powers, and Allison navigates her way through the hall of mirrors on her first try. The rest of them stay lost in there for a while until Five jumps her out. They all wait for Diego and Luther to stumble out, both looking dizzy and disoriented. Klaus comes walking from around the corner at one point, apparently having gotten out easily and went to go get another drink.

The last attraction—and the one she's been dreading—is the ferris wheel. She keeps it together until they're strapped in and the big metal death trap starts to _move_. Her fingers whiten around the bar. Since there's only two people per carriage, she got paired with Diego, who leans back and scratches his initials into the metal with a knife.

Vanya sucks in a gasp as the carriage swings. She swallows hard and closes her eyes tightly. She hates heights. Especially moving heights.

"Great view," Diego says amiably, keeping his gaze away from her and on the sunset. She appreciates the gesture, however little. "I see sunsets like these on the rooftops. Really nice some days. It doesn't seem so special anymore."

"Why's that?" Vanya manages as she tries to distract herself from the ground looming beneath them.

"I don't know. It just doesn't seem as bright."

Forcing herself to open her eyes, Vanya peers up at her brother, puzzling over his suddenly melancholy tone. The weary lines on his face make him seem older than he is. He presses his lips together and stares out at the sunset.

Soft yellows and reds streak across the darkening blue sky, bleeding into hazy stretches of purple. The clouds light up with pink and orange embers. It's stunning. Any worries about the height vanish as Vanya leans forward slightly, gaping in amazement at the incredible sight. It wasn't often she got to enjoy something like this. It's a welcome respite from the constant grey skies of the Apocalypse.

"Nothing is bright anymore," Diego whispers to himself. He doesn't seem to realize he said this out loud. Vanya purses her lips but says nothing, not wishing to ruin this strangely peaceful moment.

When the ferris wheel finally creaks to a halt, Diego hesitates before disembarking after her, joining the rest of their siblings. Klaus babbles on about the view and cradles his many stuffed prizes. Five rolls his eyes but admits it was nice.

Allison slips her hand into Vanya's and murmurs, "how was it? I hope Diego was nice to you."

"Yeah, no, it was fine. I loved it. Thank you for bringing us here. I think we all needed it. Even Luther."

"Mm, yeah." Allison smiles. "Him and Five, the grumps of the group. Hopefully everything else goes as smoothly as this."

"One can hope."

* * *

Diego discards his knives on his bed. He takes off his crime-fighting suit and dresses simply, not putting much thought into it. He tries to sneak out of the house undetected, but Allison is there to greet him.

"Where are you going?" she asks. "Hopefully not skipping out on family bonding."

"I'm not skipping out," he replies. "It's just stupid, so I'm leaving. I've got stuff to do."

"Diego." She sets a hand on his chest, stopping him. "At least tell me where you're going."

"Five used Hazel's gun to clear my name," Diego says coolly. "So I'm allowed to go to her funeral."

Allison sucks in a breath, surprised, before her expression melts into one of sympathy. "Oh, Diego, I'm so sorry. Are you sure you don't want one of us to come with you?"

"I'm sure." He slams the door behind him and cuts her off.

* * *

He doesn't cry during the eulogies. It passes quickly, with mostly her family members and close friends. He doesn't go up there. He knows he doesn't deserve to speak about her.

He doesn't cry when he sees her in the casket, eyes closed and perfectly serene. She no longer has a bloody hole in her chest. She looks beautiful.

He doesn't cry when they lower her into the ground. He buries his fingers in the dirt and tosses a handful into the grave, swallowing thickly. Something inside of him tightens painfully.

Her fellow police officers give him dirty looks, muttering amongst themselves where they think he can't hear them.

The sky brews with storm clouds. A cold wind breezes by, despite it being April.

By the time everyone has cleared out and the grave marker is erected, he's alone in the graveyard, staring down at the tombstone with burning eyes.

_Eudora Patch_

_A believer of the people._

Suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of what's happening around him, Diego inhales shallowly and takes a step back. A single, fat raindrop hits the top of his head.

It's going to rain.

He's going to break.

A hand settles on his shoulder. He flinches violently.

"Diego."

"Beaman," Diego chokes out. "W-W-What are you doing?"

"I was looking for you. I know not everyone here believes you're innocent, but they know you loved her."

"Love," Diego corrects. "I lo-love her."

Beaman sighs quietly. "Yeah."

They stand there in silence. The trees above them rustle with wind, signifying the oncoming storm. One drop hits his face, then another. Soon he's damp with sprinkling rain, but still he doesn't move. Beaman doesn't either.

"She believed in you," Beaman says softly. His hand squeezes Diego's shoulder. "Always. No matter what you did or what kind of shit you got yourself tangled up with, she saw the best in you."

"I didn't d-deserve that."

"I agree. But she believed differently. I hope you understand exactly how much faith she had in you."

"Her faith was misplaced."

Beaman's hand lifts from his shoulder. "Maybe so. I certainly wouldn't have felt the same way. Eudora loved fully, believed with all of her heart. She never gave up on you. Don't give up on her memory."

And with that, Beaman's footsteps fade away, and Diego is completely alone.

"I w-won't," he whispers. "I won't g-give up on yo-you, oka-ay?"

The tombstone is silent.

Something wet drips down his face that isn't the rain.

Diego leaves a single red rose on the grave.

* * *

It's dark and pouring rain when Diego finally stumbles up the steps to the house, easing the doors closed behind him. He kicks off his shoes at the front before they can squeak and give him away. He heads for the stairs, but pauses when he notices his family in the parlor.

A hastily set up TV is propped up on the wall, while the furniture has been rearranged to accomodate for everyone. Five and Vanya are curled up on the remaining couch. Klaus leans against the base of it. Allison and Luther have sleeping bags and are sprawled out on the floor. Everyone is eating candy and snacks as they watch a movie.

They're watching a movie.

It's not fair. Why do their lives get to back to normal, but his doesn't?

When Eudora doesn't get to live at all?

His eyes burn. He sucks in a ragged gasp and rubs at his eyes harshly, not allowing himself to cry in full view of his family.

"Diego?"

Vanya's voice startles him. His head snaps to the side, where he finds everyone looking back at him curiously. Five's haunted, calculating stare flicks over him, assessing.

"Are you okay?" Allison asks.

"Fine."

He spins on his heel and tries to walk off. Five appears in his path, wearing his signature frown, but he seems more worried than derisive.

"You don't look fine," Five says.

"Well, I am. G-Get out of my way."

"Not until you tell us what's wrong."

"F-Five," Diego grinds out.

"If you guys get to question me all the time, I get to question you," Five asserts.

Allison makes her way over to them, dressed in pastel blue pajamas. She sets a hand on Five's arm, but he pulls away. "Five, it's been a rough day for him. It was her funeral today."

Five's expression softens. "Ah."

"You shouldn't have to spend it alone," Vanya says, also joining them. Diego feels locked in place by an invisible force. "One of us could've gone with you."

Diego can't breathe. Their gazes rest on him, making his skin crawl, the room suddenly much too small and much too large all at once. He exhales shakily. A gentle, warm hand touches his arm. Allison hesitantly pulls him into a hug, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and holding him tight. He lets out a broken sob and leans into her embrace, now hyper-aware of how badly he's trembling.

They stay like that for while. Diego can't bring himself to draw back, and he doesn't think Allison will let him. Vanya and Five stand close, silently offering their support. Even Luther and Klaus join them a moment later.

Finally, when his sobs lessen to sniffles, he separates himself from his sister and wipes away any trace of tears. Allison's eyes are endlessly gentle.

"I'm s-so-sorry," Diego stutters out. "I don't know—I can't—" He stops, takes in a breath. "I don't how to—"

"Yeah," Allison says quietly. "I understand."

Swallowing hard, Diego steps away from them. "I'm going to bed," he says. "Goodnight."

And before they can stop him, he spins on his heel and jogs up the stairs.


	19. Draw four, bitches

Despite not being particularly enthused about this new family bonding routine, Luther walks down to the parlor and takes a seat anyway. Klaus and Allison have a variety of games laid out on the ground.

"Everyone cast your votes!" Klaus announces. "'Uno' or 'Sorry'?"

The vote ends up being Klaus, Allison, Five, and Vanya for Uno, with Diego and Luther finally agreeing on something for once. They're outvoted anyway.

No one trusts Klaus to deal the cards, so Vanya does it. She even reserves a spot in the circle for Ben.

A few things become clear very fast.

Allison is blatantly cheating the entire time, sneaking glances at everyone's cards, and Diego is downright terrible with cards. Luther keeps accidentally letting Allison see his deck. Surprising everyone, Five is actually remarkably good at games that rely on luck. He has an incredible sense of foresight that he uses to his full advantage.

"Ha!" Klaus crows, glaring playfully at Diego to his right. "Draw four, bitch."

Diego scowls and snatches up the cards. "This is stupid."

"You just suck," Five puts in. Luther also notices how Five's poker face is stellar. He manages to look completely harmless, up until the point where he lays down all of his cards in one turn while also forcing Allison to somehow draw eighteen.

"W-What?" Klaus sputters, staring at Five's now-empty hands. "How?"

"Skill, I suppose. Anyone up for another game?"

Diego makes everyone play Go-Fish next.

When they play Sorry, Luther finds out that he's not too bad at it, and actually wins once.

"Sheer luck," Diego tells him, obviously sore from his loss. Luther isn't sure if he even got any of the pieces out of home base.

"Nah, all skill."

One particularly amusing game they decide to play is charades. Klaus stands up and mimes an action.

"You're committing a murder," Diego guesses.

"You're waterboarding a person," Ben tries, glowing ghostly blue in the corner.

"You're hiding a body," Five pipes up.

"I'm watering a garden!" Klaus cries. His arms flop down to his sides. "You guys need therapy."

Vanya gets up there and does an exaggerated strut, tossing something invisible over her shoulder. Everyone cracks up. Klaus topples off the couch in a fit of laughter.

"You're Klaus!" Allison calls out jokingly.

"That's right," Vanya replies, grinning widely.

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, I'm doing the weird walk thing he did when we first got together for Dad's funeral."

"Oh my God," Klaus says, "you _were_. Did I really look like that?"

"Yes!" everyone laughs.

"None of you understand the gay walk, that's all. I'm just cultured."

"You're a nuisance," Diego tells him.

"Hey, some people find it attractive."

When they play Monopoly, it gets heated. By the end of it, Diego has taxed them all into oblivion and Klaus is sobbing in the corner of the parlor. Five flings a board piece at Diego and nails him in the forehead.

"Fuck!" Allison shouts somewhere in the distance.

Luther pinches the bridge of his nose. "Maybe we should take a breather, guys."

"Fuck you, capitalist pig," Five says.

"Oh, you little shit—"

Somehow, it ends with everyone sprawled out on the ground breathless with laughter, night falling outside but the house glowing with life. When a pang of realization hits him, Luther realizes that he misses this. His family, all together, smiles and petty banter that dissolves before it can turn into an argument. Maybe their trip into the Apocalypse put things into perspective. It certainly did for him.

He learned that this is it. This is all he's going to have, and he almost had it taken from him.

Never again.

* * *

Five uncaps a marker and leans over his desk, then begins writing out a new set of equations in the wood. Everything is replaceable in this house, after all.

It's almost therapeutic. He loses himself in the simple math, not worrying about the outcome or his end goal. Just writing.

He still has to give his notes to the Handler. He scowls at the thought of her touching his precious equations, the ones he'd worked so hard to create. Giving them all away feels like a betrayal.

Even so, he owes a debt.

He gathers what he can into a small stack, unsure how to transfer the ones he'd written on the walls or all over town. Then, he opens the bronze capsule and stuffs it all inside, screwing the cap on top. He walks over to the base of his bed and taps twice on it. _Whoosh._ The wood slides back, revealing a sleek white interior. He places the capsule inside and sends it up to HQ.

It is done.

As soon as he does this, a knock echoes at his door.

"Yeah?" he calls out.

Allison steps inside. She looks good today, her hair falling down her shoulders in elegant braids and her lips shining with bright red lipstick. She wears skinny, pale blue jeans and a loose-fitting green hoodie that somehow matches her aesthetic perfectly. Her fingernails are also painted light green.

"What's the occasion?" he asks dryly.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just dressing for comfort, not fashion."

"Seems like both."

"Says you," Allison points out, gesturing at his Umbrella Academy uniform. Whatever it was, childhood nostalgia or too prideful to ask for clothes, he hasn't changed out of it. He flushes red and crosses his arms. "And that brings me to my point. We're going shopping today to get you some new clothes."

"What's wrong with this?"

"What's wrong with—?" Allison coughs loudly. "It's seventeen years old, for one. And we're not in the Umbrella Academy anymore."

"Maybe I like it."

"Do you, though?"

... no. He doesn't. He hates this, in fact, because it makes him feel thirteen. He has enough problems with his appearance that don't need to include his outfit.

His silence answers her. She makes a beckoning motion and heads out. Sighing heavily, he follows.

To his dismay, the place she chooses is the department store where he'd left Delores. He doesn't want to go in at the same time he desperately wants to, and his indecision results in Allison dragging him inside regardless.

He tries. He tries as long as he can to steer clear of her. Allison gets too wrapped up in clothes-hunting to keep track of him, so he inevitably veers towards the mannequin stand. He hesitates, shifting his weight, but he's getting weird vibes from her friends and he turns around to find Allison, banishing any thought of Delores from his mind.

_Not healthy, not healthy, not healthy,_ his thoughts chant at him.

Did healthy people determine what 'not healthy' is? Or is it just a universal sign of crazy when someone starts talking to inanimate objects? He suspects the latter.

Allison, as it turns out, is unsurprisingly and ridiculously good at gauging size. She manages to find a few hoodies, some collared shirts, jeans, and a variety of other garments that are either exactly his size or very, very close. He indulges her for the first few items. After that, he begins to tire of changing in and out of clothes just for Allison to peruse his appearance.

"Let's just go with this, okay?" Five says finally, holding up a plain black shirt and blue jeans.

"So bland," Allison complains. "Why not this? I think this matches your eyes." She presses a striped white and green formal shirt to his chest. "Or maybe that hoodie. What do you think?"

"I think it doesn't matter what I say at this point. I think you already have your mind made up."

Bingo.

She grins sheepishly and tucks away a few items, leaving the clothes she's chosen as her Top Ten.

Overall, it isn't terrible. The only thing he absolutely refuses to wear is a bright red scarf she insists he needs even though it's April. He ends up buying it anyway, but he knows he'll just give it to Klaus when they get back.

Five leaves the store wearing a thick grey hoodie that's a little bit too large for him and plain jeans. Allison balls up his Umbrella Academy uniform and tosses it in the nearest dumpster.

"That seems a little overboard," Five says.

"It's symbolic!"

Even though he'd like to never deal with shopping again, he has to admit, he _is_ satisfied with what Allison picked out. It's relieving to finally be free of that stupid schoolboy uniform. And it's nice to have bigger pockets. He picks at the strings dangling from the hood, knowing he's going to end up ripping them out with his constant fidgeting.

"Hey, Five?" Allison says, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"You doing okay? I mean, you were hurt pretty bad after bringing us back here."

"It's healing fine."

"That's not what I meant." Allison glances over at him, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "How are _you_ doing? What happened while you were out? Klaus didn't tell us how he woke you up."

"Irrelevant. I'm here now, and that's all that matters."

"Five," Allison mutters. She's obviously growing irritated. "Why don't you let us care about you? You're going to drive away everyone in your life if you keep going on like this."

Five's jaw tightens. "And I care why?"

"It's like you don't give a shit about yourself when the rest of us do! Five, you're hurting us by not opening up. Please, just try to be less..."

"Less what?" he challenges coldly.

"Less like that!" Allison gestures at him, scowling. "Less hostile, less defensive, less everything. You don't even try to be anything but mean and angry all the time. Why can't you just be nice?"

"Nice never got anyone anywhere. It didn't get us out of the Apocalypse."

"This isn't..." Allison lets out a huff and throws her hands up briefly before grabbing the steering wheel again. "This isn't _normal,_ Five! Normal people don't obsess over the end of the world. Normal people don't take every opportunity to pick things apart or tear down their siblings. What the hell happened to you, Five?"

"I grew up." Five straightens and regards Allison coldly. "Seems like you didn't. Grownups don't entertain childish delusions of happy endings that always come easily. Why don't you try to be less of a delusionist, Allison?"

"At least I actually have a life! I have a daughter and a family that loves me, but what do you have? Math? Math won't make you want to live, won't make you want to wake up in the morning or keep breathing despite everything else going on."

"You _had_ a daughter," Five corrects icily. "You revoked your right to call her that when it became clear you were an unfit mother."

Allison sucks in a breath, and Five knows he's gone too far. But didn't she? He has every right to snap back when she's the one attacking him for things out of his control.

"That's not fair," Allison hisses between gritted teeth.

"That's life, Allison. Grow up."

Before she can retaliate, Five shoves himself into the folds of space and vanishes.

He lands on a rooftop several blocks away, stumbling a few feet before sinking to the ground, leaning against a chimney. His heart pounds hard in his chest. His eyes burn, but no tears fall. Allison's words ringing in his ears, his fingers curl into fists and he takes in a ragged gasp. His palms sting from his fingernails.

She has no right. She has _no right_ to say those things about him. Reading a few psychology books didn't make her fit to analyze him like some experiment. He's had enough of people watching his every move, scrutinizing every detail. He's tired of it.

The sun above is relatively high in the sky, though grey clouds filter the light and turn it ashy. He closes his eyes. When he opens them, the sky is raining ash and embers, and the air tastes like smoke.

"No," Five moans, reaching up and scrubbing little flakes of ash from his face. "No, God, not right now..."

This is _not_ the time for his mind to malfunction. Not when he's so upset.

It's always worse when he's upset.

The horizon glows with fire. Grimy rubble crumbles beneath him. Five curls in on himself, clamping his hands over his ears and letting out a broken sob. Inescapable.

"I want to _die_," Five cries, rocking back on his heels. "I don't want to _live_ like this anymore. I _can't_ live like this anymore. I just want it to _stop!"_

Flickering flames, choking smoke and gritty ash. Forever haunting him.

A shattered image of his family's terrified, unseeing eyes flashes in his mind.

Five presses the heel of his palms to his eyes and prays for his pain to stop.


	20. Superiority Complexes

"Is the parlor like our designated 'Family Meeting' place now?" Luther asks, leaning against the wall.

"You got it," Klaus says. "Now, where's Five and Diego?"

Everyone exempting the aforementioned brothers is gathered in the parlor for Klaus' next shocker. Allison paces back and forth, lips pressed together and fingernails tapping on her purse string. Vanya notices this and frowns a bit.

"I'm here," Diego says, stepping into the room. He's finally changed out of his stupid vigilante outfit, and is now wearing a simple black t-shirt.

"Then all we're missing is our little psycho." Klaus cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, "Five! Come down!"

Silence. Five doesn't appear. Worry begins to gnaw at Vanya.

Klaus groans. "Why the hell don't all of us have phones?"

After a few more minutes of searching for Five and concluding that he isn't in the house, Allison finally lets out a huff and says, "this is my fault."

"What?" Vanya says.

"We... We were arguing, and I said some things," Allison admits, shifting her weight and wringing her hands. "I said he should be nicer and less mean and he called me an unfit mother and left. He took it too far when he brought Claire into it."

"Allison!" Vanya cries, scowling. "You of all people should know that Five acts like he's not bothered by things like that, but he's actually really insecure and you probably hurt his feelings. It wasn't fair of him to bring up Claire, but you hurt him too. We need to find him."

"No need."

Five slips into view, hands in his pockets. He stares at Allison for a moment before looking away. Relief flooding her, Vanya rushes forward and hugs him, despite his quiet protests. She draws back and assesses him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he's now wearing a grey hoodie and jeans. Him and Allison must have gone shopping before their argument.

"Are you okay?" Vanya asks softly.

"I'm fine," Five replies. "What bizarre activity are we doing today, Klaus?"

He walks past her and takes a seat on the armrest of the couch. Hurt blooms in Vanya's chest at the dismissal. She grips the cuffs of her cardigan and lowers her head, the cup on the desk wobbling slightly. She reaches out and steadies it.

"Right," Klaus says, drawing out the word. He frowns at Five before moving on, obviously sensing it's a topic to drop. "So, we've decided on a three-day-long trip for this weekend. We're going, drumroll please... camping!"

Silence. Vanya wouldn't be surprised if she heard crickets.

"Camping," Diego repeats.

"Camping," Klaus confirms. "Oh, don't look so excited. I'm not a complete sadist, I don't expect you all to share a tent, so I've used my inheritance money to rent out a cabin that we'll all be staying in. Right next to a lake and a tourist town. Sweet, huh?"

"It sounds fun, Klaus," Vanya says when no one else does. And it does sound like it could be fun. But knowing this family, it'll just be chaos.

Allison seems to snap out of her guilt as her expression brightens and she claps her hands together. "Alright, it's settled then. We're leaving in an hour so pack your bags!"

Grumbling the whole time, Diego and Luther shuffle out to obey their siblings. Five vanishes with a _pop!_ Klaus drops his own suitcase on the parlor couch. Vanya rises to her feet and walks over to Allison.

"I know you didn't mean it," Vanya says quietly, "but Five doesn't. He won't be the first to apologize. You'll have to be the bigger person."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Vanya squeezes Allison's shoulder and heads out to pack her bags.

* * *

Luther lingers in the hallway, watching Diego step into his room and start gathering up his things for the trip. His movements are slow, robotic. Luther remembers what a mess Diego was the other night, eyes red and trembling. He's never seen Diego that vulnerable before.

He doesn't know what it's like to lose someone like that. And he'll probably never know. But it's clear that Diego is grieving, and Luther has no idea how to help.

Before he can muster up the courage to approach his brother, Diego looks up and sees him in the hall.

"What do you want?" Diego asks.

"I, uh... I just..." Luther swallows hard. "Can I come in?"

"What for?"

"For God's sakes, just—" Luther walks inside the room before Diego can stop him. The room is small and dismal, stripped bare of anything from their childhood. Diego left with a bang, Luther recalls. He threw a knife at their father and stormed out, and he never returned.

"Spit it out," Diego says, scowling, "or get out."

"We, um... You never told me about Patch."

Diego's expression crumples and a knife is in his hand before Luther can blink. "Get the hell out. I don't owe you anything, and you have no right to come in here and demand my memories of her."

"Woah, woah, I'm not demanding anything," Luther defends. "I'm just curious, because she obviously meant a lot to you and you're my brother."

"Since when do you care about me?" Diego says bitterly.

It's in that moment where Luther realizes the root of the conflict between them. It was never their numbers, or even Luther's unofficial status as leader. It was always about their father. Diego thinks Luther values their father and Number One status over him, and if he makes it out to be about being Number Two, then it disguises the extent of the problem. And Luther hasn't done anything to dispel that belief.

There's something he used to read about when he was a kid, and Five's host of psychology books offered a supply of good reading material. It was called a 'Superiority Complex'. Now, looking back on it, Luther begins to realize that Diego might have some sort of superiority complex.

The book described it as 'an attitude of superiority which conceals actual feelings of inferiority and failure'.

Something inside him tightens painfully.

"Diego..." Luther trails off, choking on his words.

Diego looks away, fingers whitening around his knife. "Just get out. Please."

"I've always cared about you," Luther tells him firmly. "When we were kids and now. Why wouldn't I? I'm your brother."

"You care about being Number One," Diego mutters. "You've always hated me because you think you're better than me."

"That's not true and you know it."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because I have never cared about being Number One when it comes to my family!" Luther cries. "I've made shitty mistakes, okay? I know. But I have never once stopped loving and caring about this family just because I act like a douchebag. Diego, when we were kids, I never wanted anything more than to protect you, but you thought I was just exercising my position as Number One."

Diego stares at him for a long moment, eyes unreadable.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you feel like I don't love you. Because I do, Diego. We've just never understood each other. Please let me get to know you. I'm trying to be better. I need you to help me be a better brother."

Luther rubs a hand down his face and lets out a heavy sigh. The confession seems to lift off his shoulders and leave him feeling lighter.

It seems he's shocked Diego into silence. Diego opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

"Y-Yeah," he stammers out eventually. "Okay. I n-never..." He swallows hard. "I never knew that y-you..."

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it."

"Right."

"Okay."

Suddenly feeling horribly awkward, Luther bids Diego a quick goodbye and hurries out, heart pounding. That went better than he'd expected.


	21. Sing of the Moon

Vanya never would've thought that she'd be a good person to decide seating arrangements, but apparently Klaus and Allison think otherwise. They both seek her out once she arrives back at the house, bags in tow.

Because she's never one to turn down her siblings, she makes the seating arrangement.

Diego, Five, and herself in one car, with Klaus, Allison, and Luther in the other. One sister per car to keep the peace.

Everyone shuffles back into the parlor with their reluctantly-packed stuff. When they hear the seating arrangement, she's relieved to see that no one complains or makes a fuss about who they have to drive with.

Since Allison and Vanya are the only ones with actual phones, it works out to have a GPS in each car.

Diego decides to drive, so Five takes the passenger side with Vanya in the back. The ride starts off in silence, so Vanya pulls out a book to read. The radio crackles to life playing alternative rock, which Diego seems to enjoy, although Vanya prefers classical or indie. Five also doesn't have a problem with the loud music.

Vanya sighs and settles in. This is going to be a long ride.

Nearly an hour later, Diego pulls the car into a remote gas station and everyone gets out to stretch their limbs. Vanya heads inside and stocks up with as many unhealthy snacks as possible, smiling at the thought of her brothers' reactions. Is Diego a health freak? She isn't sure. Five definitely isn't.

When she gets back in the car, she dumps the snacks on the seat. Five snatches up a bag of peanut butter pretzels.

"You're going to stunt your growth," Diego says.

"I'm going to put a knife in your eye."

Diego grabs two candy bars and starts the car. Vanya munches absently on a chocolate truffle and re-reads her book, wincing at some of the stuff she decided to write five years ago. She really was bitter, huh?

Maybe she still is. She isn't sure how she feels anymore.

"How far away is this campsite?" Five asks, rolling up his window and cutting off the noisy wind.

"I don't know. Vanya, what does the online compass say?"

"It's a GPS, Diego," Vanya replies with a chuckle. "It's a few hours away at least. If we beat traffic, two hours minimum."

Five groans and slumps in his seat.

At one point, Allison calls Vanya. "_How's everything going so far?"_

"Uh, good." Vanya watches as Five flicks a crumb at Diego, who retaliates by turning up the music to ear-bleeding volumes. Vanya raises her voice. "Some bickering, but we're okay."

"_Good. Klaus keeps throwing marbles at Luther, and we can't figure out where he's getting them. We're going to pull over at the next exit to get food, so you guys can follow us._"

"Got it. Bye."

"_Bye_."

Vanya never thought she'd be here in the future. Going on a camping trip with her dysfunctional siblings, despite being estranged for over six years. It's almost funny to think that their father dying was the only thing they needed to be a team again.

"If you play this song one more time," Five says, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

"You'll what? Kick me in the shins?"

"I'm sure you'll be laughing when I stab you in the thigh and leave you on the side of the road."

"Guys," Vanya interrupts. "Chill. No one's stabbing anybody. Oh, and Diego, pull over at the next exit so we can meet up with the others."

When they're out of the car again, everyone hangs out in the parking lot while Luther and Diego get the food. Vanya wouldn't have placed her bets on that pairing to voluntarily go with each other, but this world is full of surprises.

"Vanya!" Klaus calls. He's wearing the most ridiculous garment she's ever seen on him, which is saying something. It's a bright pink shirt with a rainbow in the center that says 'REALLY GAY' in big red letters. He has one of Allison's long, flannel skirts on and a black feather boa draped over his shoulder. "Come here, sis."

"Why do you look like you just went to a pride march?" Vanya asks, attempting to smother her laughter.

"Hey, I look good in this. Anyway, I was wondering if you have any, like, empty notebooks with you."

"Can I ask why?"

"I'm just bored. So, do you?"

"I can look."

"You're the best."

Vanya does manage to find a partially-empty notebook. She rips out the pages she used and gives the rest to Klaus. He smiles and accepts it, but something about his expression makes Vanya feel like he's not as happy as he's letting on. As he turns away, his smile vanishes and he reaches up to touch something around his neck.

It isn't her place to ask on a hunch. She goes back to the car and tries not to think about that flicker of sadness she saw cross his face.

Luther and Diego return a moment later. Luther actually laughs at something Diego says, and while Diego doesn't laugh, the barest hint of a smile tugs at his lips. That's weird.

When they head off, she asks, "Diego, what was that about? You and Luther?"

Diego lets out a huff that could be mistaken for a chuckle. "Nothing. We talked earlier, that's all."

"Hm."

"At least they're not at each other's throats," Five mutters.

The radio starts to play gentle, slow piano tunes, and Vanya stops Diego before he can turn it off.

"_I've always been told we hold black holes inside / They know from the start that every star must die_..."

"I love this song," Vanya says, leaning back to enjoy the lyrics. Diego sighs but doesn't change it. The song is somewhere between a lament and a revel, which makes it unique. She can personally identify with it too.

"_No court for us jesters but we like to / Sing of the moon as it sometimes gets shy / Running from lovers through starry-eyed skies / But morning comes quick bringing tragic goodbyes / But nothing ever really does, right?"_

"What's this about?" Diego asks. Much to Vanya's surprise, he actually seems interested in it.

She explains the meaning behind the lyrics the best she can, and as Diego listens, a wistful expression crosses his face. She remembers the girl he loved, Eudora Patch, and how this song must remind him of her with the lyrics in mind. She almost apologizes, but Diego shakes his head ever so slightly and turns up the music.

"_But who are our doubts said to? / Some half of the evening knew of listening ears long withdrew / __So we sing of the moon and the face that it hides / Shining just half of its truth to our skies / But bring me the sun that gives it all its light / I don't want to just wait to die_..."

The song fades to silence, and the next one begins to play. Diego also goes quiet. Vanya reaches over and squeezes his arm gently, hoping to communicate her support. He visibly swallows but doesn't move away.

As the next song leads into a swelling crescendo, Vanya thinks she sees Diego's eyes glimmer with tears, but it's gone a second later.

* * *

Klaus sinks low into the backseat, tuning out the sound of Luther and Allison talking quietly. He flips open the book Vanya gave him, lifting a pen to paper.

His mind goes blank. What should he write? Nothing sounds right. Nothing can do him justice.

So he just starts writing.

_Dear Dave,  
We went to a carnival on Wednesday. I think you would've liked it. There were colorful tents and lights everywhere, and the food was crappy but in a good way. A good crappy.  
The best part was the ferris wheel. Me and my brother Five decided to go alone, which I think worked out for the both of us. The sun was setting, showering the carnival in golden light. I saw so many colors all over the sky, and it was just like those paintings you talked about. You could've painted the most brilliant art from your memories alone.  
I imagined myself sitting with you. I imagined your arm around me as we stared into the sunset, and you'd probably say something like stupidly sappy like "This wouldn't be so amazing without you" and I would agreed. We would laugh and I'd forget all about the war._

Klaus' entries range anything from jokes he's told recently to his siblings, who he'd talked about briefly for Dave. He mostly brought up Ben or Five, explaining how smart Ben was or Five's weird little quirks. Dave smiled and listened to him, content with hearing only his voice. Klaus felt the same.

_Dear Dave,  
I saw someone the other day who looked like you. I almost broke down in broad daylight._

_Dear Dave,  
I dreamed about guns and planes last night. I woke up crying and holding your dog tags. Can you believe I've managed to hold onto them this long? I'm surprised I haven't lost them yet._

_Dear Dave,  
I wish you were here._

_Dear Dave,  
I've been clean for over two weeks now. I know you'd be proud of me. I threw away any drugs I could find and I had Diego hide any alcohol in the house to take away my options. I'm really trying._

_Dear Dave,  
I miss you so badly it feels like a hot iron in my chest. I think death would be less painful than this, but I know you'd want me to live. I'm living, babe. I'm living for you._

_Dear Dave,  
I don't know why I can't seem to summon you. I tried, god, I tried. Please trust me. I tried so hard._

_Dear Dave,  
I'm going to list everything I love about you because I never want to forget._

_ -Your eyes, so beautiful and blue  
__-Your kindness, your empathy  
__-Handsome, if I do say so myself  
__-Strength, in all ways  
__-You had such a big heart, you loved unconditionally and in all the ways I needed the most  
__-You believed in me like no one has before_

_ I could go on, but I'm afraid of running out of space. There's more things to tell you._

_Dear Dave,  
Remember when you taught me how to deal with panic attacks? I don't think I thanked you enough._

_Dear Dave,  
The scenery on the way to our camping trip is beautiful. The trees are so green, and the sunlight filters through in the just the right way, splattering the dirt road in glittering golden patches. I'm pretty sure there's a lake in the distance, because all I can see is a dot of sparkling blue. It reminds me of your eyes._

_Dear Dave,  
Have you ever wanted to go swimming? I remember you don't know how to swim. I'll teach you someday. It's easy once you get the hang of it. Sometimes, I like to go to the very bottom of a pool or lake and just float under there with my eyes closed, pretending I'm far away from here. I do that a lot now that you're not here._

_Dear Dave,  
Why the hell didn't I keep a picture of you? I'm starting to forget what you look like. God, Dave, I'm so scared that one day I'll forget the color of your eyes and that is the day I end it all. Already, I can't remember parts of the war or even the places we stayed. A Shau Valley. I have to remember that.  
I heard somewhere that a coping mechanism for traumatic events is blocking, or when your brain censors parts of your memory to protect you. I think that's what's happening to me. But I don't want to forget. I want to hurt without censors because that's the best way to burn something into your memory permanently. We remember the most painful things, after all._

_Dear Dave,  
I think Allison just took a wrong turn. I'm glad, though, because we got to see this nice little cottage on the edge of a big lake, painted dark purple. It had a bunch of little succulents in the windowsills and chalk drawings on the wooden stairs. I'd like to live someplace like that with you. Maybe we'll adopt a kid and live in a cottage off the coast of Northern England, where we can wear thick sweaters and drink tea and forget about our shitty pasts.  
We're leaving the house now, and I know I won't remember it in a few months, but it's nice to imagine a life with you. A life without ghosts or missing siblings or dead soldiers on a warfront._

_Dear Dave,  
I miss you._

_Dear Dave,  
I imagine drowning feels like this. Everything is muffled, and there's a squeezing pressure in my lungs. My eyes burn with salt and tears. I'm alone. There's something lurking in the darkness. I wish it was over._

_Dear Dave,  
I love you so much._

_Dear Dave,  
I love you._

_Dear Dave,  
I love you. I love you. I love you._

_Dear Dave,  
Please don't forget me. I'm so damn terrified of forgetting you I need to burn your name into my skin.  
I'm getting a tattoo, I've just decided. I'll get your name inked into my forearm, right below my 'Hello' tattoo. Or maybe I'll have a quote. What was that one you told me really resonated with you? Some song lyric.  
I got it!  
You loved Etta James, though I preferred bands like the Hollies. I remember you loved one particular song of hers, "A Sunday Kind of Love". You thought the lyrics were just perfect for us.  
"I want a Sunday kind of love / A love to last past Saturday night / And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight"  
That's the only lyric I remember. I'll get one of those lyrics tattooed right on my arm where I can always see it. I wish I could've introduced you to current music, especially singers like Troye Sivan. I really just mentioned him because he's gay too. There's so many queer artists nowadays, I know you'd be shocked. It's a lot more accepting than it was in 1968._

_Dear Dave,  
I wish you were here._

_Dear Dave,  
We're almost to the cabin. I'll write to you later about what it's like here. Bye._


	22. Arrival

Five is startled awake by Diego's hand on his shoulder.

"We're here," he says.

Instantly aware, Five sits up and takes in his surroundings. There are long, twisting asphalt roads looping around the campsite, dotted with large, bushy trees. Down below, a lake sits at the base of the campsite, the shore covered in red rocks and dark sand. A little island pokes out of the water in the distance. The ground is coated with vibrant green grass. The cabin—which is nestled into the sloping hillside—is a deep mahogany color, with creaky wooden stairs and a wide patio that frames the exterior. A rocking chair sits on the porch.

"It's beautiful," Vanya murmurs.

"Mm," Five hums. He hops out of the car and discreetly stretches, tired of being cooped up in one position for so long. Everyone else does the same as they explore the campsite.

The sky is a clear, perfect blue, with no clouds in sight. On the horizon, the sun drifts lower, but it isn't quite sunset. They still have a few hours before night falls. The trees are alive with chirping birds and chittering woodland creatures, and the air hums with insects. Five shudders. He hates this already.

"Hey, Klaus," Vanya says off to the side. "What are you using that notebook for?"

"Oh, you know," Klaus replies with a laugh, "just scribbling stuff down, not really thinking about it. Thanks for the notebook, though."

"No problem."

Five walks up to the cabin and jumps inside, landing easily in the main room. It's cozy and warm inside, but something about being in a cabin reminds him of Harold Jenkins, and he swallows down the swell of fury that accompanies the name. He slips into the narrow hallways and peeks into each room. There are three rooms total with two beds inside, which means that they'll all have to double up. Not happening.

"What's the sleeping arrangement look like?" Allison calls out, stepping inside.

"Three rooms. Two beds. I'm sleeping on the couch."

"Wait, why?"

"Because I'm not sharing a room with Luther, Diego, or Klaus, and I know you and Vanya will take one of the rooms. It works better this way."

"And hey!" Klaus chimes in as he joins them. "I can sleep alone! That works for me too. Ben likes having a bed to 'sleep' in anyway."

"See?" Five says.

Allison frowns a bit, but doesn't push the issue further. Five also doesn't want to talk to her. He vanishes and appears beside the car. Diego and Luther both grab their things and head inside, while Vanya struggles to pull her suitcase from the trunk. Five stops to help her.

"Thanks," Vanya says. "Have we figured out the sleeping arrangement?"

"Allison can tell you." He picks up his bags and steps into a rift, popping up right next to Luther and causing him to let out a yelp of surprise. Five drops his stuff on the couch.

Klaus sidles off to claim a room for his own. Diego does the same. Luther and Allison linger in the main room, exploring their surroundings. Vanya steps inside a moment later, lugging her suitcase and violin behind her. Allison helps her set everything down.

Five finds himself tapping on the couch, his knee, the wall, tugging at his hoodie strings and clicking his heel against the floor. Why the hell can he not stay still? It's like there's an itch under his skin, one that spreads over his arms and makes his fingers twitch rapidly, swallowing hard and tasting ash. This room is cramped. _It shouldn't be so small,_ he thinks.

"Absolutely _glorious_ place," Klaus announces, brandishing his arms wildly. "Much better than that old mansion Dad left us. I'm thinking I could stay here."

"No way," Luther says. "It's cute, sure, but I don't think I can live with you all for more than a few days."

"Understandable."

"So where are we all sleeping?" Vanya asks.

"Five on the couch, you and Allison, Luther and Diego, with me all by my lonesome," Klaus rattles off rapid-fire. "But I have Ben, so I'm not really alone. That works for everyone, right?"

"Is it really such a good idea for Luther and Diego to be in the same room?" Five questions, lifting one eyebrow.

"We'll be fine," Luther says hurriedly. Diego only shrugs a bit.

"Hm. Okay then."

"I'm gonna go lay down," Vanya tells them, hefting her belongings. "I'm really exhausted from that car ride." Once she's gone, Klaus quickly follows suit. Luther mutters something about going to get some air, and Diego closes the door behind him.

This is not ideal. Five does not want to be in a room alone with Allison of all people.

Sure enough, moments into their awkward silence, Allison says, "are you sure you want to sleep out here? I mean, I don't think Klaus would have an issue with sleeping on the couch."

"I'm fine out here."

"You don't have to sacrifice your comfort for Klaus."

"I don't recall asking for your input." Five raises his chin and meets her eyes unflinchingly. "And, frankly, I don't want it. I'd appreciate it if you quit trying to tell me how I should live my life. Like a normal person, right?"

"That's not what I meant." Allison lets out a huff, crossing her arms. "I shouldn't have said it like that, okay? I just wanted you to understand that when you don't talk to us—_me_—it worries me, because I care about you. After you left, I never—"

"Stop phrasing it like that."

"What?"

"'I left'. I didn't leave. I got stuck. You make it sound like I ran off and never returned on purpose."

Allison breathes in deeply, pressing her lips together as she gazes down at him. "After you got _stuck_, I never forgave myself for not saying everything I meant to. I'm trying to make up for it, okay? I'm trying to fix the things I've broken, but it's hard when you don't give me any chances. I know I upset you. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't hurt my feelings," Five mutters, but Allison barrels on regardless.

"But I still don't think bringing up Claire was warranted on your part." She frowns, her eyebrows pinching together. "I was trying to help you, and it came off wrong, but you don't get to talk about Claire."

Five has to visualize the venomous words hanging on the tip of his tongue in order to physically swallow them, restraining himself from worsening the situation. He forces himself to stop and really think about what she's saying. She's apologizing, and she means it. She's explaining why she said those things. She's setting boundaries of what she'll allow him to say to her.

It's admirable, actually. He's eloquent with insults, sure, and he outsmarted a timeless organization on multiple occasions, but when it comes to apologies and his emotions, he finds himself stumbling. He takes several seconds to formulate a proper response.

"You're right. I shouldn't have said anything about Claire. You caught me off guard, and I just reacted."

Allison seems to understand it's the closest thing to an apology he can force himself to say. She gives a tiny smile, picks up her bag, and leaves him in the main room alone.

He has the distinct feeling he's not going to enjoy this camping trip.

* * *

"So."

Klaus groans silently and tosses his bags at the foot of the bed. That little 'so' means a talk is definitely on the menu. Ben stands in the corner, staring at him.

"Just say it," Klaus mutters.

"Why did you want the room to yourself?"

"Do I need to share every aspect of my decisions with you? It's not a big deal, Ben."

Ben leans against the wall and frowns. "I'm spiritually tethered to you and I'm your brother, so I think I deserve an explanation for stuff that involves where you go, because I always go with you. Why don't you want to share a room with Five?"

"It isn't about Five. I don't want him too..." Klaus waves his hand a bit. "Mention anything to the others. I like my privacy, okay? And I've never liked sleeping in the same place as any of _them_. Even as a kid."

"But you came to sleep in my room sometimes."

"We were bros back then! You wouldn't dare say a word to anyone about anything, but I don't trust Five not to judge me."

"Five is the last person to judge you."

"That's bullshit, even for you." Klaus pulls out the journal Vanya gave him and flips to the next blank page, resolutely ignoring Ben.

Does Ben not remember that time everyone forgot he was missing, or that other time no one checked up on him, or that other time they completely brushed off his helpful information? Ben may be very smart, but he trusts his siblings too easily. He sees the best; Klaus sees the worst, and the truth.

Klaus scribbles out 'Dear Dave' at the top of the page, then shifts so his body shields the words.

Across the room, Ben scowls at him. "I tell you everything, Klaus."

"You're dead. You don't have any more life-shattering secrets to spill."

"Yeah, but I still share everything with you. I've never kept anything from you in the past. Please talk to me. I know you've been having a tough time with Dave, but I—"

"Shut the hell up, Ben!" Klaus snaps harshly, slamming the journal closed. "Just shut up! Goddamnit, you never know when to drop a fucking subject, do you? Leave it alone. Don't mention Dave or use him as leverage to get me to talk ever again. Just—Jesus Christ, fucking leave already. I can't deal with you right now."

Ben takes a step back, eyes wide in surprise. Hurt flashes across his face. Then in a ripple of blue, he sinks into the floor and vanishes.

The guilt lasts for less than a second. Klaus stares at the empty spot where Ben was, gripping the journal cover tightly. He sighs heavily and rubs his eyes.

He doesn't want Ben to leave. The ghosts are angrier when Ben isn't around. Even now, they begin to hiss and claw at the edges of vision, making him shudder. It's not so bad now that he's been practicing, but they still won't leave him alone, so if he throws himself into family bonding activities, he can distract himself from the ghosts and other things he doesn't want to think about.

If he doesn't want Ben gone, then what does he want?

His feelings are such a confusing and messy jumble that he doesn't even want to begin trying to figure them out. He wants Ben to drop it. He wants Ben to never mention Dave again. He wants Dave alive. He wants to forget.

Fingers whitening around his pen, he scribbles each of these down, permanently etching them in the paper. He needs to get it all out for fear of bursting at the seams.

_I want to see Dave again. I want Ben to come back. I want my family to get along. I want to never wake up again. I want to sleep until I forget. I want to see Dave. I want to hear his voice. I want to summon him. I want to..._

It goes on and on. He jots down as many wants as he can, wincing at a few, the ache in his chest growing more prevalent each second. Finally, he drops the pen with a clatter and grits his teeth, scanning the words he's written. He rubs his thumb against the page. The ghosts murmur in the background. Is this place haunted? Probably. That would be shitty.

He reaches up and grips Dave's dog tags, the metal cool against his skin. He presses them to his chest.

"Please appear," he mutters, rocking back on his heels. "Please."

Silence.

Klaus has no idea how to summon spirits, and when he tried to ask for help, Five had basically told him to fuck off. Now Ben is gone too, most likely sulking somewhere, and Klaus doesn't know when he'll come back. He has a habit of driving people away, huh?

"Come back to me," he whispers. "Don't leave me."

Is Dave hanging around him like Ben, but unseen? No, Ben would've told him. Ben's never kept anything from him before.

"Yet I'm keeping things from him," Klaus says wryly, huffing a laugh.

He doesn't want to sleep in the same room as Five because giving Five reason to suspect he's not okay is the very worst thing that could happen. Five is relentless when it comes to his hunches, and if Klaus is suspicious in any way, Five won't stop until he's wrung out the whole truth. And the whole truth is what Klaus is terrified of.

Plus, the nightmares. Klaus can't think of a single time that anyone other than Ben helped him with his nightmares. They always brushed him off as dramatic. He'd never hear the end of it if they knew he still suffered from horrible nightmares about the ghosts.

"Shut up," Klaus snaps as the ghosts' voices abruptly increase in volume. "I'm having a moment."

_Klaus._

_KLAUS._

"Damn you all. Go to hell where you belong."

Wrong thing to say, apparently.

The ghosts erupt into howls and unearthly screeches, his vision swimming with mutilated faces and hazy, warbled screaming. Klaus claps his shaky hands over his ears, screwing his eyes shut.

"Go away," he chokes out.

He's so _pathetic_. He fought in a war and can't handle a few stupid ghosts? Why the hell can't he get a fucking grip?

Clenching his jaw to prevent himself from making any noise, Klaus curls in on himself and vainly tries to block out the wailing ghosts. He stares down at his open journal, focusing on the heartfelt words rather than the noise all around him. Dave's name swirls on the paper.

To his utter horror, the low thumping of helicopter blades echoes in the distance.

Klaus stumbles to his feet and then sinks to the floor, pressing his back against the wall and desperately trying to keep himself anchored in reality. It's so hard when Ben isn't here.

"Ben, goddamnit," Klaus moans.

A hand settles on his shoulder. Ben lowers himself down beside Klaus and begins to whisper soothing words, his very corporeal fingers rubbing his shoulders gently. Slowly, the noise fades away, and the room comes back into clear focus. Klaus scrubs the tears from his face and leans close to his brother, soaking up the comfort.

"I'm sorry," Klaus whimpers, trembling violently from his near-flashback, the terror of it rooted deep in his mind. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—I—"

"I'm here, Klaus," Ben murmurs. "I'm here."


	23. Late Night Musings

Night has fallen. Everyone settles in for the night, turning off the lights and plunging the cabin into darkness. Klaus had walked around earlier, lighting honey-scented candles for everyone to use. They'd noticed that he'd taken most of them, but no one comments on it.

Now, Luther lays awake in the dark, a single candle sitting on the table. The faint, wavering light casts shadows against the walls.

On the other bed, Diego isn't asleep either. Luther wonders if they're awake for the same reasons.

A slow, quiet tapping sound reaches Luther's ears. Diego must have a knife with him. Does he sleep with them? Luther suddenly doesn't feel so comfortable in the same room with him.

He's trying to be there for Diego, but his brother just makes it so difficult with his weird mood swings where no one can tell if he's going to snap or not. Luther glances over and can only see the shadowy form of Diego's shoulders. Should he say something? Maybe extinguish the candle?

_This is so awkward._

"Uh," Luther says.

Silence. Why did he even open his mouth?

"It's kinda cold out here," he continues, cursing at himself inwardly. "Yup. Pretty cold."

"Mm" is Diego's only reply.

Luther lets out a huff and fixes his gaze on the wall, burning alive with his embarrassment.

"Pretty cold," Diego repeats softly, a hint of amusement coloring his tone.

Ah, of course. Diego is mocking him now. Great. "Yeah." Luther bites his lip. "Can't sleep?"

"No. You either?"

"Nope."

"It's, um... it's easier now," Luther admits.

"What is?"

"Sleeping. When I'm not alone, it's easier."

"Hm. I always sleep alone."

"I did too. I don't know, it's comforting to know I'm not alone. I'm not up there anymore."

Diego rolls over to face Luther. The scar on his face gleams in the candlelight. "That bad?"

"I mean, not horrible, just lonely. Five had it worse."

"Let's not play the pain scale game. We've all got our demons."

Luther chuckles a bit. "Yeah. You've got a point."

"After all, we know Five would beat all of us on the scale of messed-up childhoods. Growing up in the Apocalypse couldn't've been easy."

"He found our bodies, too."

"Yeah, even worse, huh?"

"Yeah."

A pause. Diego slips a small pocket knife onto the table, confirming Luther's fears that he sleeps with them. He smirks when he sees Luther's expression. "Just for safety. Although, you might want to be careful waking me up in the morning."

"Noted," Luther says nervously.

"How's your arm from the funeral, by the way?"

"It's fine."

"I nailed you, huh?"

Luther rolls his eyes. "Only you would be proud of that."

"Gotta be proud of something."

Silence falls for a while. Luther begins to think Diego is asleep for how long he's quiet. Finally, Diego tugs the blanket over himself and rolls over.

"Shoulda brought me a moon rock," Diego mumbles, his voice slightly muffled.

Luther blows out the candle and allows himself a tiny smile.

* * *

Vanya is tripping over herself, stumbling through a dark tunnel with sewage sloshing around her ankles, a dull pounding following after her. She staggers forward, breath catching, white light searing in the entrance behind her.

"No," she chokes out.

The tunnel comes to an abrupt halt. She whirls around to face her pursuer, raising her violin to her shoulder and holding the bow with shaky hands. Her white suit is drenched and grimy. White light slashes across her vision and pain explodes from her neck, hot blood spraying from the wound and staining her suit crimson.

As she sinks to her knees, she's no longer in the tunnel, but kneeling beside Leonard's crumpled form in the pouring rain. The truck engine rumbles in her ears. She's shaking him, screaming, and when she turns him over she sees a thirteen-year-old Five, eyes wide and fearful and locked on something behind her.

"Where did you go?" Five whispers. "You left me."

"No, no I didn't," Vanya cries. "Five, you ran away! I tried to follow you, but you were gone!"

"No, you left me." Five sits up suddenly, eyes narrowed and gleaming with manic intelligence. He holds up a bloody eyeball. Leonard's eyeball. "You did this."

"I didn't mean to, I—"

Five shoves the eyeball into her hand and gets to his feet. He regards her coldly. "Guess you got your wish after all. Everyone knows you're special."

"This isn't what I wanted, Five."

"You're special, Vanya," he says, his voice laced with malice. "Now tell it to the blood on your hands."

Vanya looks down to find her fingers dripping with blood, Allison's blood, one hand gripping her violin bow. She grabs it with both hands and snaps it in half.

She jolts upright in bed with a startled gasp. Tears well up in her eyes as she clasps her hands tightly together, sucking in a shuddering breath and doubling over to hide her sobs. A broken moan escapes her, shoulders heaving.

"Vanya?"

Then Allison is next to her, attempting to wrap an arm around her shoulder. Vanya flinches violently. Allison draws back.

They sit in mostly silence for a while, with Vanya trying to contain her crying and Allison staying a few inches away, close but not suffocating. Eventually, Vanya calms down enough to beckon Allison closer. Her sister gently gathers Vanya in her arms, grounding her in reality.

"I'm sorry," Vanya manages to say after a moment. "Hugs are still weird. It's not because of you."

Allison presses her lips together. "It's okay. Don't be sorry. I shouldn't have tried to touch you so soon." Her touch is careful and precise, avoiding Vanya's head and neck. She starts massaging slow circles into her shoulder blades, murmuring soft words of comfort. Vanya relaxes into Allison's prodding.

"Thank you," Vanya mutters softly.

"No need." Allison pauses for a moment to strike a match and light a candle. "We have electricity here, but Klaus insists on old-timey candles. I don't mind it. I think it's quaint."

"Like my apartment?"

"Yeah, exactly."

They both laugh. Allison's smile fades a bit. "Do you want to talk about your dream?"

Vanya sighs. "Not really."

"Okay."

After a few seconds, Vanya turns to face her sister. "God, this is weird. All of us going on a camping trip after the crazy few weeks we just had? I've almost forgotten I have a life outside of this family, even though we've only been a team again for a little while."

"I know, right? It _is _weird. I don't regret it, though. I'm glad we're all back together."

"Me too."

"When we get back home, we'll probably start going back to our regular routines." Allison sighs and looks up, as if thinking about her own routine. "Luther isn't going back to the moon, so I'll probably bring him to LA with me, so he can meet Claire. Diego'll go back to vigilante stuff, Klaus... I don't know about Klaus, actually. Maybe he'll crash at the house until he gets a job."

"Klaus, a job?" Vanya chuckles. "Not outlandish, but certainly unlikely."

"I wonder how Five's going to fit into modern society. He could probably do online college courses and get into some prestigious university like Yale or Harvard."

"Definitely. I don't see him going back to eighth grade."

"God, can you imagine?" Allison covers her mouth to hide a snicker. "He'd be correcting the teachers on the right way to graph a quadratic function."

"The real question is, who would pose as his parents?"

"Hm... Diego and Klaus?"

Vanya actually tips back her head and lets out a loud laugh. "Oh, yes. I'd pay to see that."

The sisters stay there for a while, talking quietly and thinking back on the good times in their childhood. Vanya remembers when Klaus decided to prank everyone on April Fool's day by filling their beds with ticks he found from the woods. The next day was horrific. Klaus was punished severely for it.

Allison tells her about the secret tent in the greenhouse and promises to show her sometime. They both share the memory of Ben reading to everyone late at night when they were supposed to be sleeping, entertaining them with grand tales from his storybooks.

When Allison's watch strikes two in the morning, she bids Vanya goodnight and extinguishes the candle. It's only after Vanya is on the verge of falling asleep that she realizes Allison successfully distracted her from her nightmare.

She smiles slightly as she drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Five lays on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

It's well past midnight. He knows without needing a clock. His fingers tap on the corner of a pillow, an itch crawling under his skin that seems as though it'll devour him alive. He blinks rapidly and ignores how dry his mouth feels.

After a few minutes of trying to sleep, he pushes himself up and grabs his bag from the floor. He starts rifling through it.

He pulls a journal with a red cover and two golden initials on the front. 'RH' glints in the faint moonlight from outside. He flips open the journal and finds his page, deciding to leave his siblings' personal notes for them to read. He scans the looping, scrawled words until he finds notes on his powers, specifically time travel.

With his equations buzzing in his mind, he curls his fingers into fists and concentrates.

Slowly, rippling blue light snaps to life around his hands, crackling and popping. His fingers tremble. The rift shudders. He steadily pushes aside the folds of time, watching in a strange mix of awe and horror as a scene unfolds before him, awash in a blue tint but recognizable nonetheless. Firey skies. Burned debris. Smoldering ruins.

The Apocalypse.

The rift abruptly shuts off and plunges him into darkness. The knot of tension in his chest loosens slightly.

He can control it. He can manipulate time without throwing himself to random spots in the timeline. He needs to be able to do this, in case something happens and he has to restart. If any of his siblings die, he needs to have a failsafe that he can fall back on.

When he was trapped in that time loop, he learned a few things. He knows how to replicate the same energy that rewound the timeline, which means he can mimic it here. Reginald Hargreeves only had a few ideas on how to potentially reset time, but it's enough to serve Five's interests.

He lets out a soft sigh. The folds of space are a constant, shifting weight around him, quietly present in a way that helps ease his anxiety. He can always escape if he needs to.

_Failsafe._

"Okay," Five whispers to himself. "Let's do this."

Time bends under his fingers.

* * *

Ben does what he's done every night since Klaus moved out. He watches.

Klaus sleeps curled in a tight ball, echoes of his time in the war. Ben didn't get to tag along on that trip. It's the one thing they haven't experienced together.

Which is why it bothers Ben that Klaus doesn't open up to him. Ben had learned what he could, but Klaus drew a line last night that very clearly screamed at Ben to not cross. He doesn't understand. Him and Klaus were brothers, literally bonded in their souls, and Klaus never keeps secrets. It worries Ben that Klaus seems to not be dealing with his grief.

And there's the root of the issue: Dave.

Ben never met Dave. He didn't get to see them fall in love or fight together on the front lines. Ben doesn't even have a clear picture of what Dave looks like. He just knows that Klaus loves him, and that's enough for Ben.

... at least, it should be.

He can't help but feel cheated, like Klaus used Ben for advice and companionship, but the moment he found another person to lean on, Ben wasn't needed anymore. What else is Ben good for, then? He's a ghost. If Klaus doesn't need him, what's the point? What's the point of staying on the mortal plane if Klaus needs Dave more than his brother?

He's probably blowing this out of proportion. Maybe he doesn't just want Klaus' attention.

Maybe he wants to live. Ben wants to be alive. He wants to feel things, make friends, fall in love. But he can't. Because Reginald-fucking-Hargreeves ripped his childhood and future away in one big accident.

"This is so unfair," Ben mutters, crossing his arms.

He doesn't like to think about his death or his state of being. It just reminds him that he'll always have to live through Klaus, which isn't really a life at all. Klaus wastes the one thing Ben wants the most.

It infuriates him.

But Ben is never angry for long. His indignation fades to a spark of irritation.

Sighing, he steps through the door, shuddering as his body turns incorporeal upon contact. He checks on Luther and Diego first, who are both asleep, as are Vanya and Allison. In the main room, Five is awake and sitting at the windowsill, staring out at the moonlit scenery.

"I'm sorry," Ben says quietly, although no one can hear him. "I wanted to help you. I knew something was wrong from the moment you came back, but Klaus wouldn't listen to me. I'm sorry I didn't try harder."

Five's been struggling lately. Ben sees it, even when his siblings don't. He wants so badly to comfort his brother.

His fingers glow blue and phase through Five's shoulder. Five shivers a bit.

"I wish we could talk, one-on-one," Ben says. He bites his lip. "Goodnight, Five."

Five doesn't reply.

Ben doesn't expect him to.


	24. Eureka

Early the next morning, Klaus rouses everyone. Though they're all tired and reluctant, they pile into the cars and drive into town for the day.

Allison rolls down the window and leans out, admiring the scenery.

The town isn't tiny, but it's certainly not a big city. Cobblestone streets swerve and slice through narrow alleys and neat houses in haphazard rows, speed bumps jutting out of the ground to encourage slow driving. Trees stretch high into the baby blue sky. Grass peeks up in the strangest places. The main street is framed with tourist venues, restaurants, and bustling tourists. Smatterings of ancient Victorian buildings accompany newer souvenir shops. The mishmash of old and new creates a colorful aesthetic that really accents the history of the town.

"Hey, look at that!" Klaus says suddenly. Allison lifts her eyes to find a rainbow flag dangling from a rooftop. "I've always wanted a flag."

"There's another one," Luther says, pointing.

The trio end up angling themselves in all sorts of directions to catch glimpses of the many rainbow flags, some of which are blatantly pride themed. In descending order, one flag reads "LOVE, PEACE, RESPECT, PRIDE".

"I think you belong here, Klaus," Allison says with a laugh.

Klaus chuckles in reply as he leans out of the window, brushing fingers with a flag. He flops back into the car.

Up ahead, the other car pulls into a parking lot, prompting Allison to do the same. She's a bit miffed at first to find out that they have to pay to park, but it's a tourist town. Gotta make money somehow.

"Where to first?" Vanya asks. The six of them stand in a semicircle next to the cars.

"Let's get some food," Klaus suggests. "I'm starving and this place is full of touristy shit. Wanna stay together or split up?"

"Splitting up isn't and never has been a good idea," Five says shortly, crossing his arms. "We're staying together this entire trip."

"Yes sir, dictator sir."

"Hey, guys," Allison interjects. "What about that place?" She points to a small motel with a breakfast service. It, too, has a rainbow flag hanging in the windowsill.

"Looks good to me," Luther says.

The group heads inside and down the stairs to find an underground breakfast area, lit by glowing lanterns and filled with quiet chatter. Allison's cell service dies out. They all eat breakfast, commenting on the architecture and brainstorming ideas for their trip today. Allison had done some research beforehand, so she runs through her list of places to visit.

"There's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight," she reads, "and it's right over us. We should watch it tonight."

"Sipping tequila under the stairs," Luther muses. "Sounds like my sort of thing."

At one point, Klaus whines, "Diego, you should buy me a souvenir."

"I thought you'd already come into your inheritance."

"Yeah, but I don't want to spend any of it until we get his will, because I want to know exactly how little dear old dad left me."

Diego rolls his eyes and shakes his head, chuckling. "You get one souvenir and I pick, deal?"

"You drive a hard bargain."

After breakfast, they decide to walk around until they find something cool to do. Five vanishes at one point and returns with a drink that has a little umbrella poking out of it. Allison is pretty sure it's bubble tea, but she only smiles to herself.

As a souvenir, Diego ends up buying Klaus a little rainbow flag that the latter quickly tucks behind his ear like a pen.

For lunch, Luther and Diego pick a Mexican place. It has a small sign outside that reads "Mexican food so authentic Donald Trump would build a wall around it". Klaus gets a real laugh out of that.

Everything is so expensive, Allison wonders how normal people can afford it. They have a massive sum of money both from their jobs and their inheritance, but most people don't earn very much in a year and don't acquire tons of cash from a dead family member. Another thing for Allison to be grateful for, at the same time she feels a bit guilty.

She tips the waiters 25%.

As they walk down the street, Klaus gets distracted by every rainbow flag they come across, even going into a shop at one point just to look at the rainbow kites for sale. It's kinda endearing, actually.

The real kicker, however, is when they pass an alleyway only to find that in reality, it's a tall, winding staircase with an immaculate paint job, obviously painted by someone skilled. It's an image of a tumbling waterfall, overshadowed by the massive gnarled tree covered in rainbow swirls that stretches from the street all the way up to the top. All of it painted by hand.

Klaus almost screeches in sheer delight and races up to the top of the stairs. Allison snaps a few photos, grinning. She encourages everyone else to go up there for a picture too. Then, she joins them and forces everyone to take a selfie with her and Klaus. Luther strikes a pose behind Diego, who does his signature frown. Five's poker face is admirable.

When Klaus tries to put his arm around Five, he kicks Klaus in the shins and makes the latter double over with a dramatic groan. Klaus throws himself against Diego, who fails to catch him in time and causes both of them to tumble to the ground at Allison's feet.

"Meanie," Klaus accuses, sticking his tongue out at Five.

"Give me that," Five says. He takes the phone from Allison and takes a picture of Klaus sprawled out across Diego's lap, both of them sitting on the painted stairs, Diego's eyebrows creased but his lips tugged into a faint smile.

It's messy and imperfect, but it's also everything she could've ever wished for.

* * *

Klaus is having a _ball._

This town is gaudy, garish, and gay—Just his sort of scene.

The rainbow flags, the merchandise, even the street art is perfect, the entire atmosphere of the place suiting him excellently. He ends up being the one to guide his siblings through the town, drawing them off course to anything that sparks his interest. Which is a lot, as it turns out.

He steals Allison's phone and snaps a bunch of ridiculous selfies with Diego as a reluctant participant. When he summons Ben at one point, Klaus tries to get a photo with him, but apparently ghosts appear as milky blue smudges in the photo.

By late afternoon, they're all tired, but Klaus has one more stop to make.

As they head towards Klaus' destination, Vanya pauses. "Guys?" she says, tilting her head. "What's that?"

They all stop to listen. Klaus hears it; a faint, humming melody on a violin.

"Just a second," Vanya says. She backpedals to where the street breaks off and finds the violinist; a ruffled man sitting on the curb, strumming a violin remarkably fast. It sounds like a jig or square dance.

Klaus loops his arm through Diego's and starts to dance in a circle around him, forcing his brother to spin in order to keep up. Allison laughs and does the same with Luther, while no one dares to approach Five. The latter's warning look and crossed arms is enough to make everyone steer clear.

Vanya closes her eyes, smiling appreciatively at the music. The man continues playing.

At the end of the song, Klaus throws his arms up with a cheer. Allison stumbles back a step, dizzy, leaning against the wall for support as she smiles. Luther does something unexpected; he slings his arm around Diego and laughs loudly. It's enough to make Klaus stop short. But then...

Diego grins and punches Luther's arm playfully. No knives, no stabbing, no noises of disgust.

"Holy shit," Klaus comments to Ben.

"Yeah," Ben agrees.

Unnoticed by everyone but Klaus as they continue their walk is Five, who drops a generous stack of cash into the violinist's case and says something inaudible.

"I read in the pamphlet about this park they have here," Klaus says a few minutes later, leading the group down the street. "It's why I brought these!" Reaching into his numerous pockets, he withdraws seven haphazardly knitted pieces of wool, all with varying colors and a number on each. He passes them out to his siblings. "No questions until we get there."

Klaus had designed these to match his siblings' personalities as closely as possible. Luther's is a steely grey with a black 1. Diego's is a deep blue, with pastel yellow woven in at the edges and a yellow 2. Allison's is light green with a dark pink 3. Klaus' is the one he spent the most time on, with a white background and a tiny rainbow stitched into the center, right over the black 4. Five's is crimson red with a slightly lighter shaded 5. Ben's is magenta with a pale orange 6. Vanya's is pastel purple with a white 7.

He's really proud of these, actually.

When they reach the place, Klaus pulls them off into the grass and exclaims, "welcome to Music Park!"

Their eyes go wide.

Music Park is a relatively small swath of land with several structures to make noise with, like a xylophone, large windchimes, and curving metal archways with little bars to hit. The real kicker of the park, however, is the trees.

The trees are wrapped in elegantly knitted pieces of embroidery, some stretching up the entire trunk and others with only a small sliver. There are checker patterns, rainbows, and all sorts of designs. Klaus had seen this on the website, and he's excited to see it in person. Gathering his siblings, he picks out a blank tree and reveals his knitting supplies, which makes Diego chuckle and Five roll his eyes.

"You first, Luther," Klaus says.

With some help, Klaus stitches Luther's next to Diego's, his siblings holding them still while he draws them together. The tree is large enough that the seven pieces fit perfectly, looping around so that 7 connects to 1. Klaus stands back to admire his work, adjusting the rainbow flag behind his ear.

"This is amazing," Vanya murmurs, touching another tree's embroidery. "It's not my medium, but I know art when I see it."

Allison wanders over to the metal arches and hits one with a stick, creating a flat, ringing note. Diego joins her after a moment. Vanya takes a seat on the bench and sits back, listening to the discordant notes with a small smile. Five stuffs his hands in his pockets and pretends he isn't enjoying himself. Luther hits his head trying to walk under the metal arches.

"You did it, Klaus," Ben says, heard only by Klaus. "You successfully made your family happy. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Shut up."

"I mean, how many times have you seen Diego without his scowl? Not many. Look."

Klaus looks.

Diego's head is tipped back, eyes closed, teeth flashing in a wide grin as he laughs uproariously. Allison covers her mouth with her hands, giggling. When he thinks no one is looking, Five bites his lip to restrain a smile.

"The team," Ben remarks softly, "at its best."


	25. Perseid

Diego doesn't get tired easily, but when they get back to the cabin, he's thoroughly ready to sleep. He's exhausted his emotional reserve and needs to refuel after the first day of the only real vacation he's ever had.

"Goodnight," he tosses over his shoulder as he walks up the steps.

"Sleep tight, my dear!" Klaus calls out, blowing Diego a kiss.

A quick glance at his watch tells Diego that it's nearly 5:00, which means they'd spent the entire day making complete fools of themselves in broad daylight. His decision-making memories of that whole period are fuzzy. Did Klaus spike his drink or something? He'd felt lighter than air all day, like some sort of weight had been removed from his chest. Weird.

He collapses into his bed with a heavy sigh.

Three minutes in and he's convinced he won't be able to sleep. Klaus and Allison's infectious excitement is still getting to him.

"Ugh," he groans quietly.

Silence. He can hear his siblings talking in the main room, but it's hard to identify their voices. Maybe they're looking through the ridiculous photos he'd somehow been pulled into earlier. Dragging his hands down his face, he scoffs. There goes his dignity.

He'll never be able to live it down if Allison decides to post any pictures on her social media pages. No one will take him seriously.

"Fuck," he mutters.

At least he can't be any more embarrassed than he already is.

However long later, he wakes up to realize he'd fallen asleep. The sun is halfway below the treeline, the light splintering upon contact with the window and splaying across the floor in shifty golden beams. He slowly sits up.

_Knock knock._

In the doorway, Allison smiles slightly at him. "Morning, sunshine. We're going down to the lakeside to have dinner. Meet us there, okay?"

"'Kay."

Diego slides his legs over the side of the bed and gets to his feet. He changes into a black shirt and shorts, lamenting the loss of pockets for his knives.

Ambling down to the lakeside, he finds his siblings scattered around in various places. Allison and Five stand near a grill, cooking something that smells really good. Klaus is floating on his back in the water. Luther tries his hand at skipping stones, while Vanya is in the middle of taking out her violin from its case.

"What's going on here?" Diego calls out.

"Beach party!" Klaus shouts from where he's steadily drifting away from the shore.

Diego notices that the beach isn't exactly sand; it's actually big red rocks that wobble under his sandals when he walks. He struggles over the rough terrain and joins Luther off to the side, scooping up a flat rock.

"Watch and learn," Diego says. He adjusts his position and flings the rock onto the lake. It skids and skips, hopping nearly forty times before Diego lets it sink.

"Show off," Luther mutters, rolling his eyes. He attempts to mimic Diego's movements and fails.

"Guess some of us are just better than others."

"You're a cheater."

"I adapted."

Luther tosses his hands up with a good-natured scoff. "Throwing Dad's words at me, really?"

"Underhanded is both the best way to get back at someone and the best way to skip a rock." Diego offers a triumphant grin as he expertly skips a rock all the way out to Klaus, hitting him in the shoulder.

Klaus lets out a surprised cry and starts flailing around, screeching, "a fish touched me! Ben, save me!"

Snickering, Diego hefts another rock.

Off to the side, Five pops open a lawn chair and takes a seat, sliding a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He laces his fingers. A couple feet away, Vanya closes her eyes and lifts her violin bow to play. Quiet, lulling notes fill the air, strung out in wavering crescendos. She quickens her movements, sharpening the tone, causing the water to ripple and bubble. A few rocks roll over at her feet.

Seeing Vanya play is something that will always be otherworldly to Diego. She becomes a person he's unfamiliar with, someone with confidence and _power_ who doesn't fear judgement. The Vanya he knows is not that person.

Slowly, however long it's taking, those two personas are merging. The Vanya he knew and the Vanya that should be are becoming indistinguishable.

He isn't sure how he feels about that.

Allison finishes cooking the burgers and distributes them to everyone. They all take a break from their various activities to gather around and eat together, something that hasn't happened in a very long time. Diego finds himself trapped between Klaus and Five, who don't stop bickering the entire time. It's comforting, actually.

Some things don't change.

By the time dinner is over, the only remnant of sunlight is the faint twilight that's descended over the lake, inky black skies encroaching on the deep violet of the horizon. The water laps gently against the rocky shore. Klaus heads back out into the water, with Allison quick to follow suit. Diego frowns. He didn't know everyone planned to go swimming.

Vanya also takes off her top, revealing a bathing suit underneath. She shyly steps into the water, shivering.

"What about you, old man?" Diego asks Five, lifting an eyebrow. "Going to take a dip?"

"No."

"Come on, it'll be fun," Luther puts in. He touches the water with his fingers, then wades into the lake.

Sensing this is another family bonding activity, Diego sheds his shirt and dives into the water. The shock of cold makes him splutter underwater. After a minute, though, he starts to adjust. He paddles out to Klaus, who promptly dips under and vanishes into the darkness.

"Klaus," Diego says. Nothing. He rolls his eyes. "Real mature."

A hand wraps around his ankle and suddenly Diego is underwater, bubbles billowing around him as the murky form of Klaus paddles away from him. Diego shoves himself back up to the surface, spitting out water.

"Klaus!"

Klaus snickers and plunges back under, disappearing.

They spend the next several minutes chasing each other through the water, until the sky turns black and Luther stokes a campfire on shore. Allison and Vanya huddle around it, both wrapped in towels. Diego trudges back onto land with a sheepish Klaus trailing behind him.

Allison pops open a bag of marshmallows, much to everyone's excitement. Five discreetly snatches up six and quietly roasts one at a time to satisfy his sweet tooth. Klaus summons Ben, who gazes mournfully at the marshmallow in his hand.

"I wish I could eat this," he mutters.

At one point, Luther's marshmallow catches on fire. He jumps up, blowing on it and waving it around with a yelp. Everyone laughs. Eventually, Allison puts him out of his misery and extinguishes it.

When Diego uses his powers to nail Five in the forehead, he quickly ducks behind Klaus to avoid Five's high-velocity projectiles.

"Hey, that's a rock!" Klaus screeches, covering his head.

"All's fair," Diego pipes up. He grabs a small pebble and accidentally smacks Luther with it.

The siblings end up hurling marshmallows and other small, safe items at each other, until everyone but Diego and Five is back in the water to avoid the battle. Knowing he won't beat Five, Diego does something that surprises even himself; he sweeps Five's feet out from under him and tosses him into the lake with a big splash of water.

Klaus lets out a mock-gasp of shock. "Oh, Diego. Asking me to sign your death warrant is too much."

"You've done it now," Ben says, manifesting in a haze of blue beside Diego.

Five resurfaces, shaking the water from his hair and glaring at Diego. It's a look Diego's never seen on Five; damp hair slick against his skin, face flushed with exertion, eyes wide and bright and completely caught off guard. It almost makes him look human.

Then, Five somehow shocks everyone further.

He starts _laughing._

Five tips back his head and laughs, his small form shaking in the water with the force of his amusement. Any sarcasm or derisiveness is absent from the sound. It's something Diego hasn't heard since they were very young children.

Everyone joins in a moment later, utter surprise making way for genuine joy.

_They're happy,_ Diego realizes. _I'm happy._

It's a weird thing to feel. Weird, not bad.

"Gonna get me back, old man?" Diego shouts, taking a running leap into the lake and joining his siblings. As he flicks water at Klaus, Diego identifies the light feeling inside him as happiness.

Never thought he'd see the day.

* * *

Five stretches his legs down until his foot brushes the bottom of the lake. Damn it, thirteen-year-old self. Too short. Good thing he can stay in the shallow end with Vanya, who is lying on her back and gazing up at the quiet sky.

"Calmer over here, huh?" he says. He joins her in stargazing.

"Yeah," she replies. "It's nice to know we're not alone anymore. Makes me feel better."

"Mm."

After a beat of silence, she says, "Allison mentioned a meteor shower, right? When's that?"

"Soon, I think."

"Better stay quiet so we don't miss it."

They fall silent. The rest of their siblings drift over eventually, murmuring eagerly about the meteor shower and bickering good-naturedly amongst themselves.

Quiet stays for a while. Then Allison gasps and says, "look."

Five strains to see what she's indicating. Far above them, interrupting the stillness of the dark sky, are tiny pinpricks of light, streaking overhead and dissipating as they reach the horizon. Klaus coos under his breath. Vanya's breathing hitches in awe. The shooting stars scatter into little bursts of light, slowly at first and then with growing speed. Five finds himself leaning forward slightly to get a better look.

"It's incredible," Ben whispers.

"Damn," Diego says.

The meteors come from all angles, some appearing as a single speck of light and some with long tails that fade quickly. It's fleeting and nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the stars, but Five supposes that's part of it. The qualities of something, and knowing it can slip through your fingers in a heartbeat, are what make the experience so much more precious.

All this time, Five's been trying to buy back the time he lost. But he should've been enjoying the time he has.

Feeling not really in control of himself, Five reaches over and touches Vanya's shoulder. She smiles over at him. The only one who stuck with him to the very end, who never gave up on him even when he was a massive asshole.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

He doesn't explain, but he knows she understands anyway.

Later that night, when they're all back inside the cabin and he's curled up on the couch, he opens his father's journal and flips to the time travel page. Slowly, he scratches out his equations, his backups and contingency plans. He erases everything that has caused him so much stress.

Gone.

At the same time he feels the loss, he also feels strangely liberated.

He flips through his siblings pages, all the way to Vanya's, then frowns. The journal isn't even halfway filled. Their father was always taking notes, so why aren't more pages filled?

The next few pages are blank, but the writing starts up again soon. Five brings the journal closer to his face and peruses the scrawled notes.

_Number 00.08_

"What?" Five whispers to himself.

_Current location: Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada_

_Powers: Unknown_

_Preferred name: Katelyn Amiro_

What the hell is this? Five turns the page to find similar notes. Number 00.09, Number 00.10, Number 00.11, on and on and on. Notes on all of the other thirty-six extraordinary children that Hargreeves wasn't able to adopt. He'd kept tabs on them all this time and never told his own kids.

Five discovers that with the rest of the children, the book is completely filled. Some are incomplete with data missing, like names, locations, and powers. A few simply say 'deceased'. In total, there are twenty-seven others who survived and are currently living in various places around the globe.

"Damn you, Dad," Five growls.

Reginald Hargreeves and his fucking secrets.

With this knowledge on hand, Five closes the book, tucks it away, and discards the slightest notion of getting any sleep tonight.


	26. Here We Go

**"Diving in, while the current's fast,**  
**Gotta leave the past, it's in the past,**  
**Yeah, I won't look back,**  
**Strike a match, watch the flames go higher,**  
**We can burn much brighter, if we don't look back.**

**What does it take to leave it all behind?**  
**We'll see it happen once upon a time.**

**Here we go,**  
**No, we're never slowing down,**  
**Darling, here we go,**  
**We'll get lost until we're found,**  
**Darling, here we go.**

**Feel the blood rushing through my veins,**  
**Got some brand new wings,**  
**No, we won't go back.**

**What does it take to make our dreams collide?**  
**The smallest change can make you feel alive.**

**Here we go,**  
**No, we're never slowing down,**  
**Darling, here we go,**  
**We'll get lost until we're found,**  
**Darling, here we go."**  
**-'Here We Go' by WILD, WILD**

* * *

The next few days of the camping trip are quiet and peaceful. They take a tour through the town, eat at as many establishments as possible, and buy several souvenirs. Vanya purchases a new violin bow. Five gets a new wardrobe.

It's perfectly idyllic. Exactly how Allison likes it.

Luther ends up buying Diego a set of knives, either as a general apology or a gift. Diego tests them out immediately.

Whenever they have down time, Allison takes her therapy classes online, until eventually she completes the court-mandated hours to see Claire. It causes her both relief and apprehension. Will Claire even want to see her?

At one point, she pulls Luther to the side and says, "will you go back to L.A. with me?"

He blinks in surprise. "Really? Even though...?"

"You're still her Uncle Spaceboy. She would love to meet you."

A smile breaks out on Luther's face. "I-I'd love to. Of course."

The days pass quicker than she would've preferred. Banter jumps easily between her and Klaus, Five and Diego, so on and so forth. Everyone clicks back into place without their dad's stern gaze restricting them.

They're free. They're really free.

Although they'd all drifted their own separate ways, the knowledge that their dad could reach them was ever-present in Allison's daily life, and it'd nearly disrupted the small, broken family she was trying to build. Now that he's dead, truly, permanently, then... She can live, really live, without Reginald Hargreeves haunting her every step of the way.

On the car ride home, Klaus jams his oldies tape into the radio and starts blaring 'Good Vibrations' by the Beach Boys. Luther rolls his eyes, but Allison sees him smile to himself.

Allison pulls the car up next to the others, rolls down the window, and mouths, "I'm pickin' up good vibrations..."

In retaliation, Diego turns up 'Twist and Shout'.

"You bastard!" Klaus cries indignantly. "That's a classic! You dare besmirch the name of the Beatles?"

"What?" Diego calls out. "'Shake it up, baby, twist and shout'!"

In the passenger seat, Vanya giggles at her brothers' antics and rolls the window back up. She shoots Allison a shrugging, exaggerated eyeroll _boys_ sort of look.

When she takes a break from driving and lets Luther, she rolls down the passenger window and sticks her head out, relishing the warm April wind. Eighties dance music crackles from the radio. Klaus pretends to waltz with someone invisible in the back seat, while Luther bobs his head to the beat and taps his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel.

The scenery rushes by faster than Allison can comprehend all at once, so she focuses in on the minute details. Dappled sunspots on leaves. Rustling tree branches crowding overhead. A sparkling blue lake somewhere in the distance.

Beautiful.

The music changes to a relaxing folksy tune that absolutely fits the view outside. Allison cranes her neck to see two songbirds flit around each other, swooping near the car before spiraling into the sky. She reaches out with one hand, gusts of wind buffeting her fingers and pushing against them like a physical force.

Something inside her loosens and breaks. She's overwhelmed with newfound freedom and hope, but she also feels the strong urge to cry. This is all almost too good to be true.

She doesn't believe in God, but she gives thanks to whatever deity is allowing her to have this.

_Please don't take this from me,_ she thinks desperately.

Klaus bickers with an unseen Ben, crossing his arms with a childish huff. Luther turns up the music to drown out Klaus, who makes a noise of mock outrage. Then the two are arguing playfully over the music, grappling to change the station. To the side, Diego speeds up to overtake them, flipping off Luther as he drives by.

_I can't have this taken from me._

* * *

Before they even reach the front gates of the house, Five vanishes from the back seat and lands in his room. Being cooped up for too long made him anxious to get out.

The very first thing he does is discard all of the Umbrella Academy uniforms in his closet, tossing them in a bin to throw out. He fills up his closet with hoodies and jeans, shirts and shoes and everything Allison had forced him to buy on the camping trip. It's comforting to know he has an actual wardrobe now.

His siblings chatter aimlessly downstairs, probably unloading their stuff. Tightening his grip on the red leather journal in his hands, he steps through a rift and joins them. Klaus lets out a startled gasp, clutching his heart dramatically.

"Five, good of you to join us," Diego jibes.

"Yeah, gotta grace you with my presence at all times."

"Here's your stuff," Vanya says, handing him his bags. He thanks her and drops them next to the couch.

"So, I know we just got home," Allison pipes up, wringing her hands a bit. She looks sheepish. Five lifts an eyebrow, letting her know he's listening. "But, uh, I finished my therapy and I booked a flight back to L.A. I'll come visit still."

"Oh," Vanya says. She frowns a bit. "Okay. I hope you have a good time."

"It's only for a little while," Allison assures her. "Just so we can get back to normal, you know? I had fun this week, though."

"So did I."

"I'm going too," Luther says.

"Good riddance," Diego says. Luther elbows him. Diego smirks.

A bit disheartened by the announcement but not perturbed, Five quickly says, "before you go, I need to tell you something." Everyone falls silent to listen. It's something he's always enjoyed; having the floor. "I was reading Dad's journal the other night—"

"Wait, what?" Luther interrupts. He stares at the journal in Five's hands. "You've had that this whole time? And you didn't tell us?"

"I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

"Five, that's his private notes and important information on us. It's dangerous in the wrong hands. Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I was reading it," Five says irritably. "Only mine, not yours. I can keep this safe better than anyone. Now, where was I? Right. I was reading the journal the other night when I reached the end of his notes on us." He finds the last page for Number Seven, pinching it to show his siblings.

"That's barely a quarter of that journal," Allison notices with a confused frown.

"Dad was always writing in it, though," Diego says.

"Yeah, exactly. I thought it was weird too." Five flips to the next page. "But it doesn't stop there. The rest of the book doesn't have notes on us."

A pause. Luther sighs. "Just read it already. Drop the suspense."

Five lifts the journal and reads aloud. "_Number 00.08. Katelyn Amiro. Located in Vancouver, Canada._"

"What?" Vanya says. She leans over his shoulder to read it, her forehead creasing as her eyes trace down the letters. "What is that?"

"Notes and descriptions of the other thirty-six children that he wasn't able to adopt. All of them are in here. Some died in childbirth, from abandonment, or other causes, but the majority is alive. In total, there are twenty-seven left."

Silence. Everyone stares at the journal in varying degrees of shock.

"Why would he never tell us?" Allison asks, but then shakes her head, as if answering her own question.

"Are there any that live near us?" Luther says.

Five scans the journal briefly. "Yeah. Number Thirteen. She lives right outside city limits, actually. We might've run into her as kids."

"Why didn't we ever know about her, then?" Diego asks.

"I guess her mother wanted her," Vanya says softly.

The 'unlike us' goes unspoken.

When Klaus finally speaks, he's more subdued than before. "What should we do about this, then? We can't just ignore it. It's not going away."

"Yeah, this was dangerous enough in Harold Jenkins' hands, but imagine it in the hands of someone with a grudge against metahumans," Luther agrees. "We need to either destroy that journal or put it to good use."

After a pause, Vanya says quietly, "I have an idea." She shifts her weight, uncertain, but seems to gather her courage. "We give them a chance we didn't have. To train safely, learn to control their powers in an encouraging environment. We open our doors as a refuge for metahumans to live and train without fearing themselves."

"Amazing idea, dear sister," Klaus drawls, flopping down onto to the couch. "Except, not. Strangers in the house? I don't think so. We can barely handle ourselves, much less being a team, and even less so new additions to the team."

"I actually think it's a great idea," Luther says, surprising everyone. Vanya smiles at the approval.

"How's that?" Five asks curiously.

"Well, we definitely have enough space," Luther explains, counting on his fingers. "The courtyard and total space is more than enough for twenty-seven people, and most of them won't be staying here permanently. We have Dad's journal to help us locate them. The only thing that wouldn't work out is that we can't leave them unsupervised, and most of us have lives outside of the Academy."

"You, Five, and Klaus don't have houses or lives," Diego puts in. "I think you guys can handle it alone."

"I can't stay," Allison reminds them. She wrings her hands, apologetic. "Luther and I have to catch my flight."

"That's fine," Five replies. "It'll be a slow process anyway. You two deserve a break."

"I can be around most of the time, but I have violin lessons and my orchestra," Vanya says. She takes a seat next to Klaus.

"You can summon Ben to help, too, right?" Diego asks Klaus pointedly.

"Fine," Klaus grumbles.

A pause. Five slides his fingers down the side of the journal, closing it. "We're all onboard, then?"

Pensive nods answer him.

Allison and Luther excuse themselves a few minutes later, packing up their bags and heading for the airport. Five hopes they learn to relax in L.A. Diego goes upstairs to help Grace clean. Klaus sidles out, saying something about waffles. Then only Vanya is left, eyeing the journal in his hands like he's holding toxic chemicals.

"I can't believe Dad hid this from us," she says. Five nods in agreement. "It's so weird, to think there are people out there with powers who grew up with normal lives."

"No one like us had a normal life," Five mutters. He opens the journal again. "Wanna go find Number Thirteen?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Who else?"

Vanya smiles and blushes.

* * *

Luther stands beside Allison, jittery with nerves, but he knows he can't be any more worried than she is.

Patrick's house is big but modest, painted a light blue. Childish drawings are stuck to the front door. Claire's, Luther assumes.

Sometime during the plane trip, Allison had contacted Patrick. A few tense discussions later and they'd come to an agreement. Allison would get two hours with Claire per day, and Patrick would be in the next room. Luther can tell she isn't happy with the arrangement, but she accepts the terms anyway.

"You can knock, it's okay," Luther says quietly.

Allison seems to snap out of her trance. She lifts her hand and tentatively knocks twice.

The door swings open. Patrick's lips tug into a scowl when he sees them, but he steps back and allows them inside the house. Luther is immediately struck with the scent of sugar.

"We were making brownies," Patrick explains reluctantly. "I can't mimic your recipe."

"Yeah," Allison murmurs, almost dazedly. She beckons for Luther to follow as she peers around the corner, into the kitchen.

The counter is dusted with sugar and flour, a bowl of batter sitting off to the side. The oven door is ajar, emitting the scent of smoke. A young girl stands on a stepstool, blowing on a tray of blackened brownies and flapping her hands comically.

Allison makes a choked noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

Claire turns around. Big mittens slip off of her hands, her apron brushing against the floor. Her expression brightens and her face breaks into a wide smile as she cries, "Mommy!" She hops down from the stool and rushes over to Allison, leaping into her arms and hugging her tight.

"Baby," Allison whispers. She threads her fingers in Claire's hair and begins to cry.

"I'll be in the living room," Patrick tells Luther, allowing Allison and Claire to have a moment. Luther nods in reply.

"Mommy, we were trying to make brownies," Claire says seriously, gesturing at the mess. "But look! We need your help."

"I'll help," Allison says. "I'll help."

Claire draws back, taking off her mittens and handing them to Allison. She then glances up at Luther for the first time, tilting her head in confusion. "Who's that?"

"Oh, um." Allison gets to her feet. "This is your Uncle Spaceboy."

"_Spaceboy?"_ Claire's eyes go comically wide. She runs up to Luther and grabs his hand, grinning. "You came down from the moon to meet me?"

"I..." Luther hesitates. Allison gives him an encouraging look. He offers Claire a weak, nervous smile. "I did. Just for you. My very important mission turned out to be my family all along, can you believe it?"

Claire giggles and yanks him over to the counter. She 'teaches' Allison and Luther how to bake brownies and just the right ingredients to use. Luther ends up being the one to stir them, while Allison and Claire add sugar and sprinkles. When they're ready, Claire helps Luther slide them into the oven.

"Now we wait!" Claire announces. "Uncle Spaceboy, come look at my books. I drew them for Mommy but you can look too."

The three of them gather around a tiny kids table. Claire picks up several stapled paper books and begins to read them out loud. "Once upon a time there was a man on the moon. He was named Spaceboy. He protected Earth from evil monsters and aliens." She points out the crude drawing of a green alien. "When my mom went away, she went to the moon and protected me with Spaceboy."

Allison touches her lips with her fingers, eyes shining.

"And I was right!" Claire exclaims. "You guys came back to Earth together!"

Luther is surprised to find there's a lump in his throat. He swallows hard. Allison leans against his side, fingers trembling nearly imperceptibly. Claire continues to chatter about her books, oblivious to the adults' emotions.

"The brownies are done," Claire says, jumping to her feet.

In the kitchen, Patrick stops the timer. He picks up the oven mitts, regards them for a moment with a strange look on his face, then holds them out for Luther to take. He doesn't smile, but he gives Luther and Allison a subtle, respectful nod.

Together, the four of them decorate the brownies with frosting and little fondue shapes. It's filled with awkward I'm-sorrys and excuse-mes and a lot of fumbling around this unfamiliar dynamic, but everyone settles in eventually, making peace with each other for Claire's sake.

And with everyone lounging around, laughing and eating brownies, Luther doesn't miss his dad at all.


	27. New Horizons

Diego takes a running leap up the fire escape and yanks himself up onto the apartment roof, heels skidding against the brick, using his momentum to launch him forward and across the narrow alleyway. He lands easily atop the roof. The brief burst of adrenaline leaves him breathing hard and grinning.

"We're back in business," he mutters to himself. He slips out a knife and rocks back on his heels to watch the streets, settling back into his role as a vigilante.

It doesn't take long for something to catch his eye. Someone dressed in all black, wearing a mask tied around their face, walks by slowly, hesitating by the alley. They step into the alley and press themselves against the wall, effectively blending in. Diego leans closer.

When a man reaches the mouth of the alley, the dark figure lunges out and grabs him, cutting off his yelp of surprise.

"Where is Five Hargreeves?" they demand, shoving the man farther back into the alley.

"Who?" the man cries. He scrambles away from his attacker. "Look, I don't know who you're—"

"Shut up." They pull out something silver and shiny. A gun. "Answer the question or die. Where is Five Hargreeves, or any of his psycho siblings?"

"Hargreeves? Like the billionaire?" The man whimpers as the other aims the gun. "I-I don't know, the old house, maybe? I've only seen them on the TV, I swear!"

Time to intervene. Diego inches to the edge of the roof, running a finger down the side of his knife, then throws it. The knife sails through the air, curving impossibly at a ninety degree angle, nailing the dark figure in the shoulder. They let out a shout and stagger back, allowing their victim to run.

"Shit," they curse.

Now that Diego's closer, he almost recognizes the voice. It brings back unhappy memories.

But it can't be. Because Five took care of them.

Cha-Cha clutches her shoulder with a low growl. Diego hops down from the roof, landing in the shadows a few feet away.

"Looking for some psycho siblings?" Diego says.

"Knife boy, right?" Cha-Cha huffs. With a hiss and a grunt, she yanks the knife out of her shoulder and drops it to the ground, dripping blood. She ties a strip of cloth around the wound, seemingly unbothered by Diego's offensive position. "Wonderful. Exactly who I was looking for."

"I hope you know the only reason I'm not putting a knife in your eye is because I want to know what you're doing here," Diego says, gesturing with his knife. "Now, I thought Five told you to stay far away. If he isn't scary enough, I don't know who is."

"Oh, believe me, I got the message."

"Then why are you here?"

Cha-Cha dusts herself off and removes the mask. Her serious, cold expression makes Diego want to shoot her point blank. He barely restrains himself.

"I did what Number Five wanted," she tells him. "I left the city and left everything behind. I even let him take my gun. You can understand how hard it is to be without a weapon." Diego scoffs. "However, when I walking down the street one day, I met someone with some interesting things to say about you."

"Like what?"

"Like how you and your whole family was endangering the future of the crusade or some shit like that. She seemed to hate you as much as I do, which was intriguing."

"Get on with the point," Diego snaps. "A lot of people hate us. We're used to it."

"Except this lady gave me an offer." Cha-Cha sighs a bit and leans against the wall, minding her injured shoulder. "She wanted to hire me to kill you. I might've taken it a few weeks ago, but after Number Five's explicit threats and me knowing that I shouldn't get tangled up with you all again... it convinced me to turn her down."

"Who was she?" Diego asks, interested now.

"I don't know. Wouldn't tell me her name, only went by 'Ayaba'."

"What does that mean?"

"No idea." Cha-Cha pushes off the wall. "It's a different language, that's for sure. Listen, I only came here because she seemed pretty invested in wiping you out, which I guess I can understand. If you can help me out, I'll help you with whoever Ayaba is."

"Who says we want your help?"

"I just told you all that, didn't I? The least you can do is give me some cash, just to get back on my feet. I've lived in shitty places over the past couple of years, but never on the streets. And it's your family's fault, too."

Diego shakes his head, scoffing. "You tried to kill all of us and still think we owe you?" He pockets his knife and steps up the fire escape.

"Wait!" Cha-Cha cries. He pauses. "I can give you more information."

Sighing, Diego turns around and sits down on the bottom step. He gestures at her to keep talking.

"She had a thick African accent, with dark skin, but her eyes were blue. She seemed to be new in the city and knew your names, powers, and most of your history. I was intimidated, and I can't say that often."

"Yeah, okay, thanks, but I think we can handle this ourselves." Diego digs in his pockets, withdraws a stack of cash, and shoves it in Cha-Cha's direction. "Take it and never come back."

She snatches up the money. It vanishes into the folds of her clothes. Diego rises to his feet and climbs up to the top of the fire escape, and when he looks back down, Cha-Cha is gone.

"Good riddance," he mutters.

Her message is worrying, however. Someone had managed to intimidate a deadly assassin into running to the Hargreeves for help, which meant Ayaba must be a formidable opponent. There's always the possibility that Cha-Cha was lying, but Diego doesn't think so. The way she looked when she recounted her experience...

She almost seemed afraid.

"Bloody hell, none of us can get a fucking break."

* * *

"Stop here," Five says. Vanya pulls up in front of a quaint, one-story house on the outskirts of the city. Number Thirteen's last recorded location.

They get out of the car together. Five checks the address for a third time, then heads up the winding sidewalk and steps onto the front porch. Vanya squeezes his shoulder gently, comfortingly.

"It's a lovely home," she murmurs, admiring the little succulents dotting the windowsills and pastel yellow flowers.

"Mm. Let's do this, shall we?"

"Right."

He knocks three times on the door. Vanya shifts her weight. A moment later, the lock clicks and a young woman opens the door. Her skin is noticeably darker than theirs, perhaps Asian descent. Her eyes are a warm brown and her black hair falls over her shoulders in waves. She wears a black hoodie and jeans with a phone in her hand.

"Can I help you?" she asks, her finger hovering over her phone screen.

Five exchanges a glance with Vanya. He straightens and meets Number Thirteen's eyes. "My name is Five Hargreeves, and this is my sister Vanya. We have reason to believe you possess abilities far beyond the ordinary."

A surprised expression crosses Thirteen's face before vanishing. She regards them warily, pocketing her phone. "Hargreeves? Like that billionaire? What do you want?"

Next to him, Vanya gives him an encouraging look. They've gotten so far, they've grown and changed and made it through with each other. Now they stand on the precipice of a new life, side by side, prepared to face any challenges that might come their way. A bright future lies ahead of them.

All is well.

Five draws himself up with pride.

"We're with the Umbrella Academy," he says. "Can we come in?"


	28. Epilogue: Long Live The Queen

At the top of a penthouse in the heart of New York City, a body grows cold on the floor.

The body in question is that of a rich businessman by the name of Noah Greenlaw, a known advocate against the metahuman population and infamous for his human trafficking scandal. He lies face down on the plush grey carpet, skin blackened and scorched, mouth agape in a silent scream and smoking craters where his eyes once were.

His desk sits untouched, save for a half-empty glass of amber liquid resting on the corner. A large window lets in the warm sunlight, illuminating his still corpse.

Traffic buzzes outside. People chatter, walking up and down the bustling sidewalks. The Empire State Building looms in the distance.

All is quiet.

"Such a pleasure to deal with you today, Mr. Greenlaw," a young woman says, her voice rich and smooth with a heavy West African accent.

Her name is Isoken Abimbola, and she has killed this man.

She steps over his body and picks up the glass on his desk, taking a generous sip. Her fingernails tap gently against the mahogany wood, so dark it nearly matches her skin tone. Humming softly, she sets down the glass and lowers herself into a crouch, gazing calmly at the corpse.

"Somehow, you bigots are uglier living than dead," she muses quietly.

Noah Greenlaw remains silent.

"Pity."

Isoken rises to her feet in one fluid movement, her white dress elegantly swaying around her feet. The sleeves stretch down to her wrists, where the fabric shifts into lace flower patterns, contrasting sharply and perfectly with her dark skin. She minds her dress as she drinks again from the glass.

"You humans make the choice to hate. Your choices are what brought you here today, Mr. Greenlaw."

At that moment, a knock sounds at the door. She lifts her head at the noise.

"Your brother is here to see you, Ayaba," one of her followers, Ally, informs her.

"Let him in," Isoken says.

A few moments later, a man is ushered through the door, which closes and locks behind him. He is of the Yoruba people, as Isoken is, but his skin tone is noticeably lighter and he is dressed much more casually, in a simple black collared shirt. His name is Adepero Abimbola, and he is Isoken's elder brother.

He makes a strangled noise when he sees the body of Noah Greenlaw.

"Iso, what have you done?" he gasps, going to Noah's side and tentatively checking his pulse. He lowers his head, murmuring a quiet prayer.

"Have you no idea who he is? He loudly speaks of our demise. If he is terrible to his own kind, he is terrible to others."

"He has not killed anyone!" Adepero cries. He straightens, his expression twisted in grief. "Iso, _arabinrin_, please..."

"_Arakunrin_," she shoots back, the term laced with venom rather than endearment. She picks up the glass and takes another sip. "If you are here to beg inarguable conditions with me, feel free to grovel at my feet. Until then, find someone else to plead helplessly with."

Holding the glass in one hand, she scoops up a remote and presses a button. A television on the wall flickers on. The scene unfolding on the screen makes Isoken scowl.

It's a video of the Umbrella Academy, standing on the front steps of their home and reluctantly answering questions from enthusiastic journalists. They don't stand in numerical order, like they did as kids, but they do stay close to each other, laughing and talking. Isoken turns up the volume.

"... Umbrella Academy has reunited as a team and has announced they are opening their doors to metahumans that seek protection or training. It seems our resident heroes have once again returned to keep this city safe after many years of estrangement, but one must put forth the question: will this reunion result in good fortune for us, or are we in more danger than before? More at eight..."

"Do you see this?" Isoken asks, muting the news report.

"I see progress," Adepero says through gritted teeth. Fire sparks between his fingers, igniting with his passion. "This is good news."

"Is it? Because I see a group of people too scared to make real change. I see people scrambling for light in the darkness." Isoken slowly slides a glimmering silver ring off of her finger, switching it to the other hand. "I see people like yours. Sheep following the only shepherd in sight."

"Iso..."

"But sometimes, we don't need a shepherd. We need a wolf to pick off the ones who can't survive."

Adepero sets his hand on the desk with more force than necessary. "Isoken, this is not the way. We need union between the races, not more division. You are spreading as much hate as the humans."

"Do not!" Isoken shouts suddenly, "do not compare me with _them_." She tightens her jaw and places the glass on the desk. "At least I am not a coward, hiding in the shadows or even going as far as to _save_ or _protect_ the humans, like them." She points viciously at the Umbrella Academy.

"They're trying to help!" Adepero cries. When Isoken's expression doesn't change, his face falls. He sighs softly. "Iso, I love you. You are my sister. I will always love you. But I cannot support you any longer. Your reign of terror will be short and terrible, and I will not miss it when it is over. Èṣù deals a hand of misfortune upon you."

Isoken scoffs. She frowns when she realizes her glass is empty, and moves over to the cabinet to fish out another bottle. As she does so, Adepero mutters under his breath and tries to move the body of Noah Greenlaw into a more dignified position.

"Do you know what my name means?" Isoken says abruptly, closing the cabinet. She turns to face her brother. "'One who is contented with her destiny'. Do you think Mother knew, when she named me, that it would come to fruition?"

"This isn't the way," Adepero tells her firmly. "Please, stop and think about this."

"I have. And I see only one way this can end."

"Isoken Abimbola," Adepero says resolutely, "I swear you off as _arabinrin mi_ and remove you from my namesake. You have made yourself an enemy of our future, and for that, my forgiveness is drained. Do not consider yourself a member of the Abimbola family."

A long pause stretches between them.

Isoken presses her lips together, nodding slowly. She removes her silver ring and sets it on the desk, then unties the red strip of cloth tied around her head. It's stitched with a big 'A' and other crude symbols that their mother sewed for her. She balls up the fabric and hands it to Adepero. He carefully receives it and pockets it.

"This is goodbye," Adepero says. "When we meet again, it will be on war terms."

"Not quite."

Adepero stops on his way to the door. Isoken smiles slightly at him, flashing white teeth.

"When we meet again..." She moves close to him, raising her arms as if to hug him. Startled, he begins to return the gesture. "... it will be in spirit only."

As soon as her hands make contact with his shoulders, his eyes fly open and his whole body stiffens, a low groan escaping him as his muscles contract and shudder, electricity racing up his body and burning him from the inside out. His fingers spasm and grip involuntarily at her dress. Isoken remains still as her brother opens his mouth, no sound coming out, eyes rolling back in his head as he collapses, dead.

Isoken carefully dusts herself off, smoothing out the creases in her dress. She steps silently over Adepero's body and opens the door. His escort is standing there, a young boy whose face goes pale as he catches sight of what lies inside the room.

"Return to my brother's flock," Isoken says calmly, "tell them the king is dead. Long live the queen."

The boy lets out a choked gasp, spins on his heel, and bolts in the other direction.

The door closes behind him. Striding to the other side of the room, where a large ornate mirror hangs on the wall, she adjusts the collar of her dress and stares at her reflection. Ebony dark skin, intricate braids and shockingly bright blue eyes.

She does not smile at herself.

Electricity sparks and crackles in a halo around her head, occasionally shooting up in jagged, flashing arches to form a crown of white lightning.

"Here comes the storm."

* * *

**aaaand that's a wrap! Thanks for dealing with my wildly inconsistent updating schedule and for the few of you who took the time to comment!**


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